The Knight Finalie

Hunter was but a shadow gliding across the ground almost lost in the dwindling light of the setting sun. By a trick of the land, the ground was cast in shadows, while the top of the fortress walls were still bathed in light. He had seen that the sun set more slowly in this realm than on earth.

Behind him a half a dozen warriors were following at a discreet distance. Each wore a black breastplate and carried a black sword. Their faces were also smeared with the black dirt. Their eyes like white marbles floating in human shaped silhouettes.

He slid up to the base of the wall to the fortress and halted. His shadowy outline fluttered only slightly in the breeze as he crouched down. He was waiting for his companions to catch up.

Hunter lowered his hood and looked up the imposing grey stonewall before him. The wall was easily fifty feet high, and topped with a parapet that was being constantly patrolled by Nidavellir guards. Even as he waited for his companions, he could see a glint of the dimming sunlight reflect from a pike as it bounced along. But the life force of the Nidavellir holding it was still muted. Hunter had theorised with the wizard Atrimus, that the very stones of the fortress had been imbued with enchantments that affected his powers. It was an intriguing theory, and could even provide him with troubles once he was inside the fortress. If he could not rely on his powers, then he would be at a distinct disadvantage. But he had to go on.

The pike stopped its movement and suddenly a Nidavellir’s head leaned over the wall and looked around. Hunter had no fear of being seen yet. He was still outside of the building and his powers were unaffected around himself. All the Nidavellir would see would be a shadow.

The Nidavellir, satisfied that he had indeed seen nothing out of the ordinary, disappeared back behind the wall and the armoured footsteps could be heard moving away.

The other six warriors that were accompanying him finished their approach to the wall and crouched around him, depositing black leather sacks to the ground. He could feel their emotions on edge. They knew that they were very likely to die this evening. But they still came with him. It startled Hunter how normal people could find such courage in the face of adversity.

The six removed grappling hooks from their sacks and one handed a spare to Hunter. He had not learnt their names during the abbreviated briefing they had done. Which struck him as a shame. These people were going to fight and, likely die, for his cause, and he for theirs. Yet they knew nothing about each other. Well, he hoped that he wouldn’t have to die for them. But if it came to it, what was his life when compared to the freedom of their people?

Sighing inwardly, he took the end of the grappling hook, nodding to the man who had handed it too him. His eyes turned upwards again, tracking the guards’ progress across their patrol routes. He shook his head in disbelief. The weapons and armour of the Nidavellir glinted in the light cast by the setting sun. Because of the slower movement of the sun across the sky, they still would show up for another half an hour or so. They made such good targets up on the wall, and again he wished for a little modern weaponry. A nice high-powered silenced rifle would have made easy work of them. Instead he was resorting to close up combat.

Eyes still tracking the guards, timing their patrols, his left hand slipped beneath his cloak to check the extra equipment he had obtained from his new allies.

On each thigh he had strapped six slender throwing knives. At his waist, along with his own sword riding as always at his left hip, he had his dagger at the small of his back, and a whip coiled at his right waist. Each forearm also now sported a knife in a wrist sheath, along with another two knifes in each boot top. He also had a quiver of arrows across his back under his cloak, and a longbow hanging from his left shoulder.

Reaching the same left hand down to the ground, he rubbed a finger in the clay like, rust coloured dirt. Then he ran the finger across his cheekbones, leaving a line of near red under each eye.

Then it was time. He rose from his crouch and began to twirl the grappling hook round in ever increasing circles, making it go faster and faster. Then at just the right moment, which he estimated in his head, he let the grappling hook fly.

It arced up and sailed over the wall. Hunter pulled on it hard till it refused to move any further. Then he started up the wall, his warrior-honed muscles pulling him up hand over hand, while his legs stabilised him by walking deftly up the wall.

He was up to the top in seconds, leaping over the top and landing in a crouch as his cape swirled around him. The two Nidavellir were only just turning round to face the commotion that he had made with the grappling hook. His hands slid under his cape and fastened around a throwing knife each.

Without even turning his head, both hands flicked out, sending the handle-less blades slicing through the air. A second later, he heard a clatter from either side, and turning his head, he could see the Nidavellir on his left falling to the ground with a knife in his throat. The one on the right had a knife sticking out the eye socket, with blood and thicker fluids funning down the startled grey face as it fell forwards to the stone walkway.

Hunter was already on the move in a smooth half crouch like run by the time both came to hit the ground. He moved to the left and stopped long enough to draw the throwing knife out the victim’s throat, wiping it on the garments it wore and sliding it back into the holster on his thigh.

He heard the sound of metal scraping stone as the rest of his force arrived at the top of the wall. They spilled out from where their own grappling hooks had landed, moving together, away from Hunter towards a tower that rose proudly from the wall.

Hunter picked up the Nidavellir’s dropped pike and moved towards the tower nearest him. He had to trust his fellows that they could handle anything from their direction. Gripping the pike two handed, he held it fully aloft and hooked it over the edge of the battlement above him, using it to pull himself up the wall. As he slid over the slick stone at the top, the pike slipped from its perch and tumbled towards the ground.

Hunter reacted like lightening and dropped backwards from the battlement. As he fell, his hands reached out and grasped the stone, stopping his fall while his feet came together, catching the falling pike and stopping it dead.

He twisted the pike around in the grip between his feet and bent his knees. The blade appeared at his left shoulder, and he carefully took his right hand from its death-grip on the wall and grasped the wooden shaft of the weapon. His left arm straining as he pulled himself up the wall far enough to deposit the weapon on the other side of the battlements, freeing up his right hand to pull himself all the way over as well.

Setting both feet firmly on the ground, he took the longbow from his shoulder and drew an arrow from the quiver at his back.

Scanning the area around him with his eyes, he spotted his next target. It was another Nidavellir standing at a door on the inner wall, by a wooden catwalk thirty feet above the ground. The catwalk connected the tower his allies were capturing with the inner wall, where they would be able to gain access to the central keep. The arrow whooshed through the air catching his target under the chin and stabbing through his neck and out the other side. The arrow dug into the wooden rail that ran across the bridge, preventing the now dead Nidavellir from falling to the ground.

Hunter drew another arrow and finished scanning the area. There were no more guards that he could see. That of course did not mean that there weren’t any hidden. The only way to be sure was to try to scan the area with his powers. But if he did that, Seth would certainly know he was nearby, and if Seth knew that this early, they would never get access to the keep or the main gate.

Moving quickly, he jumped off the tower, landed on the wall-walk and ran across to the wooden door that led into the other tower his comrades had gone too. As he approached, the heady door opened. Hunter barely slowed down as he rushed inside, the door closing behind him. Another Nidavellir lay dead behind the door, lying in a pool of it’s own blood. Its throat slit all the way across its grey neck.

Two of the men left behind on this level followed Hunter as he took a wooden staircase down to the next level. The others were gathered around another heavy wooden door, having scouted a little ahead.

The door creaked slightly as they opened it, showing the wooden catwalk to the inner wall. Hunter ran across the bridge to the other side, slowing briefly as the door opposite him suddenly began to open.

Hunter reacted swiftly, letting the arrow he still had readied in his bow fly. It stabbed deeply into the Nidavellir standing framed in the doorway. A splattering of blood erupted out to greet Hunter as he rushed through the open door, only to run into an occupied guardroom.

Five more of the grey warriors were sat around a wooden table staring in shock as a cloaked figure burst into their barracks.

Hunter, already reaching for another arrow drew two instead, placing them both against the drawstring of the bow, simultaneously letting them both fly. The two closest Nidavellir fell with arrows in their chests.

But the other three were now on their feet, weapons drawn and too close for more arrows. Hunter threw the bow at the nearest one, causing it to involuntarily flinch. It never saw Hunter’s sword clear its scabbard, and so never had a chance to parry it with his own blade. The longsword stabbed through the breastplate like it was made of paper, piercing out the other side of his body in a spray of green blood.

Hunter’s right leg came up and around in a kick that took the next nearest attacker under the jaw, lifting him off his feet to slam into the unforgiving stonewall behind. Keeping his left hand on his own blade, his right reached out and plucked the short sword from the warrior he had impaled, driving it through the air to intercept the blade of the last Nidavellir. The two blades met in the clang of metal on metal even as Hunter backed away, drawing his longsword out of the impaled Nidavellir.

Hunter continued to back away, moving round the table in the middle of the room. The Nidavellir he kicked stirring against the wall prompted Hunter to throw the short sword in his right hand. The blade glinted as it passed through the light from a torch on the wall before it stabbed into the chest of its intended target, piercing out the other side and sticking into the stonewall. The Nidavellir looked down at the blade piercing its chest and holding it to the wall before its head lolled to the side as the life left it as fast as the blood that ran down the wall.

Hunter smiled icily at the last Nidavellir as it finally put its back to the doorway he had come through, just as his companions spilled through it. Six swords stabbed it from different angels, driving it forwards to lean over the table with wide startled eyes.

Hunter turned and moved over to the stairs at the back of the room and moved down them, immersing himself in the shadows that were generated by a lack of torchlight. The people accompanying him fanned out besides and behind him, passing through what appeared to be a disused armoury.

They moved to the next set of stairs, following them down to arrive at the bottom of the inner wall. Moving to the only door out of the room. Fanning out around it, one of them opened it a crack and gasped.

Hunter moved up and glanced out the crack and swore under his breath. In the 200 yards between the inner wall and the side wall of the keep were pitched tents. Hundreds of them, lined up in every direction and sweeping round the imposing central stone keep.

But what disturbed Hunter and the man who had looked through the door first was not the tents, but what was moving around between them. Nidavellir. Thousands of the grey warriors, all moving about with purpose.

Some were practicing with weapons; others were doing basic hand to hand fighting moves. Some, those nearest the keep, were dressed in floor length black robes and were throwing magical sparks at wooden cut out targets. As Hunter watched, one of the sparks connected, causing chunks of wood to splinter off the target and sending out little puffs of smoke. Even with his own powers drawn about him like a cloak to prevent Seth from detecting him, he could sense the magic in the air.

They closed the door slowly and moved back up one floor to the weapons storeroom beneath the barracks. Taking a better look around this time, Hunter noticed that many of the racks were empty. The weapons were probably being used in the training going on right outside the door.

“We have to turn back,” whispered one of the men.

Hunter shook his head adamantly. “We have to go on,” he insisted.

The others looked at him in disbelief. “Through that lot?” asked one, the disbelief causing his voice to rise in tone a little.

Hunter spitted him with an intense stare and nodded an affirmative. “That army is here for a reason,” he said. “We need to find out its purpose, and if possible destroy it!”

The only woman in the group shook her head. “You’re crazy. Even if we got every member of our army here, we would be outnumbered twenty to one!”

“That doesn’t even include the mages they have,” replied another. "All we have is one elderly wizard!”

“Atrimus is a powerful wizard though,” broke in another.

Hunter interrupted the conversation. “You have a choice,” he replied grimly. “To either attack that army here, where it is contained and can’t outflank you.” He paused and looked at the faces of each in turn as he continued, “Or, you can wait till that army finishes it’s training and comes out to find you.”

They knew the truth of his words. Sooner or later the Demon Lords would want to seek revenge for the defeat of their other army.

“So what do we do then?” asked the woman.

Hunter looked at her. “We stick to the original plan for the most part. We all go and secure the gatehouse and signal the army. We hold it long enough to get reinforcements, then I go and deal with the Demon Lord and Seth.”

Within seconds, they had agreed on the plan. Hunter took his longsword and pointed it slightly up in the air. “Cross your blades,” he instructed them.

Each eyed him slightly as they took their own swords. But they all crossed their blades in the air. Hunter smiled as he spoke. “From this point on, we are dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives, not for ourselves, but for our friends and loved ones. One for all, and all for one!”

The others looked at him for a moment, but, in turn, each understood his meaning. Then the woman of the group repeated the saying, “One for all, and all for one.”

Suddenly, they were all saying it, their voices carrying slightly in the echo of the room. But their spirits were heightened.

Hunter lowered his sword and smiled wider. “Right,” he said unable to keep the amusement from his voice at saying the famous line of the Musketeers, “Lets move out.”

True night had finally fallen. Dark shadows were cast from the scattered, flickering wall torches. Hunter and his warrior companions had proceeded through the rooms of the inner wall, mainly keeping to the shadows, but killing another dozen Nidavellir to make their way towards the gatehouse. They had now gotten as far as they could using the rooms of the inner wall.

Hunter slid out of the doorway and into the massive courtyard that stood behind the gatehouse. The rest of the inner wall did contain more rooms, but there were separated from each other by thick walls, and their only access was from doorways off the courtyard.

He ducked behind a stack of crated to the side of the door unnoticed by the dozens of Nidavellir between him and his objective. Keeping his eyes open, he crawled along the base of the wall till he ended up under the nearest wall torch. Sliding his back up the wall so he could see over the crates, his cloak suddenly seemed to come alive. The hem snaked up past him, crawling up the wall like an oil slick till it covered the torch. The light from it cut out immediately, and in a second, Hunter could smell the smokey scent of its extinguished flame. As the shadows suddenly increased, he dropped prone to the floor, his cape falling about him and covering him. He heard the comments of a couple of nearby Nidavellir about inept human slaves not keeping the torches going, but they moved off. Lighting torches was below the duties of a warrior.

The six followers slid out the doorway one at a time to join Hunter behind the crates.

Hunter slid up the wall again to study the courtyard in greater detail. It was as they had seen from the windows of the rooms in the inner wall. There was no cover between the last of the interconnected rooms and the gatehouse. They would have to cross the courtyard.

The gatehouse itself was an imposing structure straddling the inner and outer walls of the fortress. Massive battlements and towers bristled with guards and ballista. It was a fortress within a fortress.

The main area of the courtyard was also well light by standing iron torches spaced evenly over the straw covered flagstone.

Straw covered?

Hunter ducked down as a lizard like animal wandered closer to the crates. A dozen of the strange animals were wandering free across the area. They looked like small dinosaurs on two thick hind legs, and shorter vestigial front ‘arms’ with viscous looking claws. Most had saddle like harnesses. One or two even had metal plates strapped over flanks.

But it was the straw that had just given him an idea. He slid back down the wall and motioned the others in closer. Rather than risk his voice, which could easily reverberate off the stone behind him, he opened himself slightly to his powers. He kept the level so low, that anyone who was sensitive would have to be nearly right on top of him to know what he was doing. He sent a telepathic message, showing them what he intended to do. He got a surprised look from one of the men, but two others and the groups only woman smiled slightly.

Hunter stood, still mostly hidden by the shadows around him, clutching a stone he had gotten from the ground. In one fast movement, he had thrown the stone as hard as he could at a lizard animal closest to a freestanding torch. The stone hit the animal square between it’s dark, liquid black eyes. The animal reared backwards, it’s body weight crashing into the torch. The iron was heavy enough to just waver under the strain, but the shock had caused some of the wood in the open top to fall to the ground.

The dry straw caught fire in a couple of seconds, drawing the attention of the nearby Nidavellir from the spooked animal to the larger threat. A few loud shouts later and every Nidavellir in the courtyard were moving to deal with the rapidly spreading fire.

Hunter broke from behind the crates entering a dead run to the gatehouse. He angled towards a side door at the base of one of the towers. As he ran, he could hear the sudden startled shouts that indicated they had been spotted. But he was already near the door.

Not expecting an attack from the inside, the door opened as Hunter crashed into it. He skidded to a halt and drew his longsword, hacking it to the left to take down a startled Nidavellir who had come out a side room to see what all the commotion was about.

Turning round, he saw the rest of the members of his team running towards the shelter of the gatehouse, a horde of grey warriors in close pursuit. Stepping outside the doorway, Hunter launched himself at a group who were trying to intercept the humans before they got to the gatehouse.

His sword arched up and around opening up the closest from hip to shoulder, spilling dark green blood over the ground. His blade never faltered as it reached the top of its arc, descending in a smooth motion to take the right arm clean off another.

He danced back from a quick slash by a short sword. With his right hand still on the longsword that hacked at a third victim, Hunter’s left hand descended to the wrist of the Nidavellir that had tried to slash him with the sword. He got a grip on the writs twisting it so fast and violently that he felt the bone snap like a twig.

He backed away to the door parrying two more attacks by Nidavellir with swords. Ducking inside, he had timed it just so he followed in the last of his warrior companions.

As he cleared the doorway, two of them slammed the heavy iron studded door closed and slammed the bolts home.

Pounding sounded from the other side, and the door rattled slightly on its hinges but held firm. But to Hunter and the others, the sound was merely punctuation to the sound of their footsteps echoing down the stone corridors as they ran to the stairs. Now that the defenders knew they were there, it would be a matter of a minute or two at best to get to the portcullis controls and open them.

A minute or two till thousands of trained warriors descended on seven.

But Hunter did not let his thoughts dwell on the negative aspects. He just ran along side his allies.

Seth swept into the war room with Angelus following close behind. They had only just gone to a side room to allow Angelus to explore his new powers when Seth first sensed something was wrong. He had initially dismissed the sensation, but it had grown. It was only a few minutes later that a Nidavellir had burst into the room saying several armed humans had been seen inside the fortress walls on their way to the gatehouse.

“What news?” he demanded as he walked past the demon lords advisors arrayed around the large central table.

“We have unconfirmed reports that one of the humans is Hunter,” mewled the demon lord.

Seth froze at the news. Shock rippled through his mind, but he had enough self-control to prevent any showing on his face. He turned and stated into the fire, his eyes taking on a glazed and far away look as he attempted to meditate on the events occurring.

All he saw in his mind’s eye was a mist. A near impenetrable fog that occasionally had random images flash across his mind.

One image showed him towering over Hunter, who lay bleeding at his feet. Another showed a human army swamping him and tearing him apart. Yet another showed the demon lord ripping Hunter’s sword from his hands and stabbing him through the chest with nothing but claws.

Seth turned and stared at his ally. “I will deal with Hunter,” he said low in his throat as he turned away again to walk from the room.

“No!” replied the demon lord. “I will deal with Hunter. You will perform the ritual.”

Seth froze, his back to his ally. He considered the possibilities. The last time Hunter had engaged the demon lord, it had been in Sunnydale. The closeness of the Hellmouth increasing his native demon abilities to the level he would have had here in this reality. But Hunter had also hurt him enough that he had needed a healer when he returned to his realm.

He thought back on the images he had seen. Some showed victory, some defeat. None were clear enough to tell which was more likely to happen. But if the demon lord did take on Hunter, it would indeed leave Seth to perform the ceremony. Once the ceremony was complete, he would have the powers of ‘The Key’ to use against Hunter. So, if the demon lord got to Hunter and killed him, then Seth would have all the powers of The Key. If Hunter killed the demon lord, it would remove him as a contender for the throne of this realm and earth, and Seth would have been given the time he needed to increase his abilities. With which he could then take on and defeat Hunter.

It was a win win situation for Seth, and it prompted him to smile.

“Very well my friend,” he said darkly. “Go and destroy Hunter while I make us the right hand’s of the Dark Ones.”

Warfare was not noble. The object of the exercise was to kill as many of the enemy as possible before they killed you.

Hunter was in no doubt that he was now involved in a war. Three-dozen cut and bloody Nidavellir bodies lay around him as he battled an overwhelming horde pf the grey warriors.

His back was to the stone archway that led into the control room of the portcullis. Sword in hand he hacked and slashed his way through Nidavellir after Nidavellir. Killing them was proving all too easy. He had finally opened himself to his powers, letting them flow through him. He could sense where they were, where they would be and what they wanted to do. A parry here and a stroke to the head, or a block, then a riposte to the heart. He wasn’t so much as fighting as stalling for time. If killing each one took two seconds, or seven, he couldn’t possibly stop them all. Foot by foot he was being driven closer to the archway where the last of his allies fought.

One was in the room ensuring the now open portcullis stayed up. Three were still fighting behind Hunter to prevent him from being surrounded. Two were dead on the floor. One with a deep cut that had spilled his lower intestine partly out onto the floor. The other had a gash down the side of his head that had split the skull leaving grey matter visible through the blood.

Even with his powers to strengthen him he couldn’t kill them fast enough.

Unless I can do something to do, it’s over, it’s all over.

Then, as soon as all the warriors had appeared, they seemed to disappear. Parting to reveal a nightmare form. The demon lord, towering over the Nidavellir, bristling with chitinous armour plates covered in short grey fur. Yellow razor sharp teeth framing a black maw. Steel grey claws sprouting from talon like fingers and feet. And eyes so dark and empty, they looked like windows to hell itself.

But he was not alone. Another of the demons stood besides him, slightly smaller, but no less fearsome for it.

Hunter set himself. “Get inside the room can seal the door,” he instructed them forcefully.

“You can't possibly think you can stop them alone do you?” asked the female warrior as she clutched a hand to a bloody cut on her forearm.

“Immaterial, isn’t it?” Hunter replied solemnly. “All I have to do is delay them for another few minutes.”

Hunter raised his left hand and extended two fingers toward the demons. He forced himself to ignore the pain in his heart of not being able to look for Dawn and composed his face in an expression that suggested that facing the two demons was slightly less inconvenient than shining his boots.

The demon lord did not draw the sword that hung from a scabbard at his waist; instead he stepped to the side and waved his subordinate forwards. The slightly smaller demon bounded a few steps closer and drew his sword, setting himself in a pose of great martial grandeur.

“I still hear you breathing back there.” Said Hunter so that the three warriors behind him could hear him. “Go! Now!”

He glanced ever so quickly over his shoulder to spit the three warriors a determined stare. They nodded once and moved back through the stone arch, beginning to close the heavy door to seal the room.

The smaller demon raised his sword as if to throw it like a spear and Hunter tensed to get ready to knock it from the air.

But the demon lord barked something that stopped his companion dead.

Hunter twirled his silver blade around in a circle then moved to further interpose himself with the now closed door and the two demons. Hunter could sense the Nidavellir at the edges of his perceptions. They may have moved out of the hall that he now stood in, but they were just outside. “I hope you two think this is a good day to die?” he asked flatly.

The first demon slowly stalked towards him across the hall. His naturally armoured fingers of one hand splayed forwards and slightly to the side, while the other held a broad sword up in the air by his head. The demon moved with a casual grace that did not seem appropriate for his size. He moved with the grace of a born predator. Hunter mentally compared it to the style that the demon lord had used earlier. This opponent moved faster, surer. Was he younger? Or was he simply a fighter and not a ruler?

The demon took a part step to the left in the first step of a plan that no doubt ended with Hunter presenting his back to the demon lord. Hunter countered by stepping to his right, placing the two combatants closer together.

The first attack came when the demon swept his sword from up high to down low in a sweeping slash at Hunter’s legs. Hunter blocked the cut low, the tip of his enchanted sword slicing through the stone floor with little resistance leaving a small furrow in the otherwise near smooth floor. Hunter stepped back and aimed his sword at the warrior again.

The warrior tried the same attack a second time. This time Hunter parried a bit higher then pivoted on his right foot. His left foot came up and around in a roundhouse kick that caught the demon in the chest. The younger warrior fell back and went down, then rolled from beneath Hunter’s overhand strike. The blow left another scar in the stone floor, throwing up a mass of sparks. By the time Hunter had pulled his blade free, the demon had gotten to his feet and set him self for the next attack.

Hunter squared off with him, presenting his left flank for the attack. He held his sword hilt up by his right ear with the blade pointing straight forwards. He levelled it at the demon’s eyes, and then gave a nod. “You want me, come and get me.”

The demon took a step forwards and Hunter focused his powers into the blade. It glowed briefly and the blade doubled in length. The tip stabbed deep into the bridge of the demon’s skull over the short muzzle. Black blood spurted out around the energy discharge as it faded, leaving the sword as it ad been.

The demon jerked and bounced as he dropped his sword, limbs snapping to his sides. He fell back, a little acrid smoke rising from the wound, clattering to the ground. His armoured limbs bounced up once from the hard surface before twitching once and finally coming to a still rest.

Hunter nodded to the demon lord. “He was too eager. I knew he would fall for that trick. But you…. you are something else aren’t you?”

The demon lord moved forwards a few steps and drew the broadsword from his waist. He did not waist the effort of showing off, instead he held the sword firmly in a two handed grip, high right to low left, ready to fend off any attacks at his head. Hungry eyes watched Hunter as they began to circle slowly.

The demon lord stopped and set himself again. He pulled both hands above his head holding the sword higher, with the point aiming straight at Hunters chest. Hunter crouched low, making himself a small a target as possible. It seemed to him that it would be very easy for the demon lord to throw the sword at him to try to end it in one blow.

They waited. Tensed and ready to strike at each other. They waited.

Hunter could not sense the demon lord properly with his powers, and the magnificent ferocity of the demon lord assaulted his physical senses as well. All activity outside the hall they now stood in faded away as Hunter concentrated on the here and now. If the demon lord killed him because he was worrying where the Nidavellir had gone, then he could do nothing to help Dawn or the others.

Images of Dawn flashed into his mind. What would happen to her if he fell here in battle? Would she be alive to mourn him? Would he meet her in the afterlife? He shook his head slightly. He wanted to close his eyes and look at the picture he had of her in his minds eye. But if he allowed himself to be distracted by thoughts of Dawn, then he would die just as surely as if he worried too much about the Nidavellir.

As the two faced off against each other, Hunter briefly wondered if the demon lord was having the same sort of thoughts. Did he have any family? Was he thinking of them now? But before he could push that wonder fully aside, the demon lord attacked. He slashed low and to the right. Hunter parried, then lunged with his blade. The demon lord slipped to the right, trailing sparks from his natural armour as it split under the point of Hunter’s enchanted sword.

But as the demon lord spun away, he slashed back with his own sword. The tip caught Hunter on his right thigh, slicing through black tights and flash, spraying blood onto the floor and walls.

Hunter whirled, shunting the pain aside, then darted in and slashed twice at the demons right flank. The broadsword arced across in a vertical black and then with a twist of the left wrist, powered Hunters blade up and around. Hunter cocked his wrists so that the blade swooped over the top of his head so it nearly touched the crown if his skull. But the blade continued in its passage around, and Hunter lashed forwards with it. The blade sparked off the armour on the demons right shoulder.

The demon spun away from a cut at his neck, then continued the spin and slashed with a backhanded cut at Hunters knees. Hunter leapt above it, then sliced down at the demons left elbow as it passed. The sliver blade pierced the hard armour plate and cut into flesh, winning a hiss of pain and surprise from the demon, and a spray of black blood from the cut.

The two combatants moved back from each other for a moment. Each eyeing the other. Hunter could feel the warmth spreading down his leg as his blood soaked along his skin. The demon lord had a gash in the armour of his right hip, but the cut was not deep enough to have caught flesh. The cut on the left elbow on the other hand was bleeding profusely around the cut in the armour plate, with rivulets running across the surface and matting the short grey hair together before falling to the stone floor.

Each nodded shortly to the other. A mark of respect between two fighters. A mark of respect, also tinged with a hint of fear. Just a hint, but it was there. It would be different if he were to get to face Seth. They would be able to read each other in the currents of life. Here, it was pure reflexes. One against the other. Whoever was faster and smarter would win.

This is it, thought Hunter. Only one of us will be walking away from here.

Then it happened.

War cries echoed off the stonewalls as the two charged at each other with swords arcing in for killing blows. At the last second, Hunter dived to the floor, twisting in mid air so he landed on his back. Sliding across the slick stone, he sailed past the belated down slash from the demon lord. Hunter arrested his motion with a mental push off the nearest wall and sat up from the ground. His sword lanced into the middle of the demon lord’s back before he could turn his mass around. Blood exploded from the wound and the armour plate split across its length.

The demon lord roared in pain, but stepped forwards and turned to face Hunter, who was getting up from the floor as fast as he could.

The broadsword came in from high right and came so close to Hunter’s head that it actually cut off a few trailing hairs from his scalp. But Hunter was already moving away in a spinning turn that set his blade in a massive circle. The blade sliced across the right thigh of the demon, sending the armour plate attached there flying off to clatter on the floor. Black blood exploded from the wound, running in a constant wave down the leg and pooling on the floor.

But the demon was still standing. Still fighting. He attacked Hunter, the broadsword arcing in from the side I a one handed slash that would have opened him from hip to hip. Hunter parried with his own blade, having to hold it two handed against the might of the blow. The demons free hand caught Hunter in a slap with the palm, raking the razor sharp claws across his chin that he could not fully dodge.

The pain seemed to penetrate his jaw as he backed off, the taste of his own blood in his mouth. But before he had backed away more than two feet, he pressed his attack again.

Several rapid spars with the swords sent sparks flying into the air as the blades parried against each other.

Hunter did not let up as he pressed his attack, driving his sword ferociously at the demon, images of what might have happened to Dawn and her friends flashing into his mind and driving him on in a wave of building fury.

Then the demon lord ran out of hall. Hunter swiped his longsword at waist height. The demon lord blocked with his vertical sword, but Hunter ran his blade up the length of the broadsword till his reached the tip, then he pushed harder. The broadsword moved off vertical as Hunter kicked the demon lord on his bloody leg where he had no armour plate to protect him.

Hunter broke off the pressure on the broadsword and backed off a foot, raising his longsword high above his head and arcing it down with all his might at the demon lord. The broadsword came up for the parry, but as Hunter blade impacted with it, a high pitched metal screech pierced the air, echoing painfully off the stonewalls. Hunter’s blade cut straight through the broadsword, severing the blade in the middle, and continuing unabated to slice into the demon lord’s head.

The skull cracked like a ripe melon, spraying black blood and heavier, smelly material against the wall and against Hunter. He felt something warm and wet hit his cheek and begin to slide down as he stepped back from his victim. The two half’s of the demons sword clanged to the ground as their owner slid down the wall leaving a trail of black blood glistening in the torchlight. Two empty black eyes stared at Hunter as, exhausted from the encounter, he fell backwards to land heavily on his rear.

He had done it. The demon lord was dead.

Dawn was physically exhausted from trying to make her body move. But it stubbornly refused her attempts. She no longer had any idea how long she had been there. Her back was aching from the unforgiving surface and she could feel the pins and needles sensation creeping up her legs. She had developed an itch about an hour ago and was desperate to scratch it. The constant prickle was driving her mad.

But she was also emotionally spent as well. She could not close her eyes without seeing the horrible images of her friends being hurt. Of Gunn’s death and of Cordelia, dying alone back home. She had long past the point of crying for them though.

Instead, she was filled with a hollow void that was beginning to be filled with rage. A burning hatred of Seth, Morgan and their demon allies. Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone? She had not asked to be what she was. In fact, if she had a choice, she would gladly give up her heritage to live a normal life.

“You want a normal life?” echoed a cold voice across the hall.

The cold edge of fear in her gut dropped to a freezing chill as Seth’s voice drifted to her.

“You have an unbelievable potential Key,” he said, saying the last word with a hint of something hidden in his voice. Veneration?

Dawn tried to swallow her fear and inject some confidence into her voice. “What do you want?”

A shadow detached from the wall and drifted over to the altar, resolving into a cloaked human form. Seth’s face was totally hidden in the shadows of his hood, but Dawn could feel the weight of his gaze on her. “I want all that you are, and all you could be,” he whispered to her.

Dawn looked determinedly into the void under the hood. “What do you mean?” she asked with a hint of fear still in her voice despite her best efforts to control it.

Seth pulled down his hood while his eyes drifted down her body and back up again. A wandering gaze that wanted to make her crawl out of her skin in disgust. He saw the look on her face and it made him smile. “There are many prophecies regarding you girl,” he said. “Some show your death. Others show you ascending to powers so great that even the gods will be wary of you.”

He stopped and sat on the edge of the altar, his right hand resting over Dawn’s. She so wanted to pull it away, but still her body refused to obey her commands. Seth glanced down at her wrist as she still tried to struggle to move it. A slight grin slipped across his face. But it was not pleasant. It was the sort of look that was born of one’s enjoyment out of someone else’s suffering.

His right hand slid up her skin to her elbow, making the nerves tingle under the un-natural coldness of his skin. But under the cold, was something else. Deep inside her, a power flared and rushed down her arm to the area under Seth’s touch. Seth removed his hand and held it lightly with the other, staring at it in a look of awe. “Did you feel it?” he asked in a hushed tone. “The power that flows between us.”

He looked down at her face expecting a response, but Dawn was too afraid of what she had felt. Power. Pure energy that had started within her. It had left her feeling energised but weak. Like the end of an adrenaline rush, when the body was just beginning to sink into that feeling of being drained. But while the energy had been present, it had set off every nerve in her body, washing it in power. And she had enjoyed it.

“Did you feel it?” Seth demanded.

Dawn looked into his dead eyes and instantly knew that this man could unlock all the potential she had inside of her. He could make her powerful, and she would never have to be afraid again. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice surprisingly thick.

Seth’s smile faded and his face took on a far away look. “Yes…” he hissed. “There are many prophecies regarding you.” He looked down her body again, his eyes lingering on her legs. They looked quite pale against the black fabric covering the stone altar. Dawn barely noticed as his right hand was once again on her skin. This time on the outside of her thigh, just below the hem of her skirt.

What she did notice was the power rising to the surface again. She felt the power from Seth enter her body, and her own power rose to meet it. Her vision swam into a myriad mix of two colours. A red so pale that it was closer to pink, and black. The image swirled around with the two colours moving like immiscible oils. Never really mixed together. The effect reminded her of marble.

Seth’s hand slid down her leg for a second and image began to fade as Dawn fought through to focus on where she was. Then she realised that the hand was sliding back up her leg. It slowed as it reached the hem of her skirt. For a terrible second that stretched out for an eternity, Dawn feared that Seth’s hand would move under the skirt and up her thigh. But, he lifted the hand enough to run it over the fabric of her dress instead. The hand finally coming to rest on her lower abdomen.

Seth looked at his hand as it rested lightly on her belly. Then he turned slowly, almost reluctantly to look at her. “One of the prophecies says that your children could rule entire dimensions,” he said so quietly that Dawn found herself straining to hear what he had said.

But when she had heard it, she suddenly snapped back to reality. The power in her flared like a torch and her mind filled with images that were not her own. Of Seth watching her friends and companions being led to the deepest dungeons. Of his dreams of torturing each and every one till they died in his hands. His latest fantasy of him and her together. The last of the colour clouding her vision drained away and she felt a tide of revulsion spread throughout her body. The images did not bear thinking about. Her…. with Seth.


Seth pulled his hand away from her belly like it was on fire. A look of pain crossed his face. But it was soon replaced with a look of pure anger. “I will have your power,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “and once I do, you will be but an empty husk for me to do with as I please!”

He stood, and in a swirl of cape stormed from the room.

Dawn, alone again, suddenly felt cold press in around her. She had caught a glimpse into Seth’s mind and had seen how truly evil he was. She now knew that Seth had sent her friends to deeper dungeons with no intentions of releasing them.

She had also seen her fate. Seth would take her power, and then he would take her.

The undulating war cry of a dozen Nidavellir echoed off the stone as Hunter surged to his feet to meet the menace of the trained fighters. As he stood, he spared a second to wipe the slimy material that had been crawling down his cheek, leaving only a slimy feeling and the memory of its presence.

Sword in hand, he began to dance through the waves of warriors as the massed into the hall. But no matter how many he fought, more were pouring in the door. Once again, he found himself being pushed back to the door leading to the portcullis control room.

In a bare second of breathing room between parries, he glanced at the secured door sealing off the last of his companions. It was mainly wood with iron studs and heavy hinges holding it to the solid walls. The place was designed to hold out against attack so reinforcements to get to it to help. He wondered how long it would take for them to break the door down if he was not fighting in front of it.

But he stopped wondering as another sword flew in from the side, prompting him to divert his attention back to the job of staying alive. Moving his sword to vertical with the hilt in the air and the blade pointing to the ground, he jumped sideways, spinning like a wheel in the air to land several feet away. He was temporarily in the clear and he used the opportunity to gather his concentration.

Focusing his mind, he unleashed a torrent of power that slammed into the Nidavellir and threw them off their feet. They scrambled as the wave of power swept over them, making them slide across the smooth floor to pile up in a heap by the rear wall.

Hunter could not help but have a little smile play across his lips as he doubled the energy slamming into them, forcing them against the wall and holding them there as well as if they were chained to the wall.

Then he shifted a portion of his attention to the weapons they had dropped in their mad scramble to stop their backwards progress. The short swords floated into the air and all orientated to face the Nidavellir. Those who could see this had fear in their eyes and began chittering wildly in their native tongue. But Hunter ignored their words and thrust the weapons towards them.

At the very last second, he turned them around in mid air to have the heavy pommels slam into skulls with a crack that reverberated over the noise of voices that suddenly fell silent as the speakers fell into unconsciousness.

Hunter turned his attention to the stairway that led up to the hall and threw his powers at the stonework. He felt the well-constructed archway over the stair shift ever so slightly. But he applied more pressure till all that was holding the huge blocks up was his will.

Then he let them fall in a crash of dust and stone chips, blocking the stairs.

Before the dust had even settled, he turned and went to the door he had been guarding and banged heavily on it with his fist. “It’s Hunter, open up!”

The door opened suddenly and he found himself facing the points of three swords. But the warriors holding them moved away in stunned silence into the room.

After fighting in the enclosed hall, the room he now found himself in was light and airy. A balcony faced him overlooking the approach to the castle. Framed by the stone pillars that held up the roof, he could see the Human army charging across the dark plain, torches held high. The front ranks of the force were already within yards of the wall and showed no sigh of slowing as they headed towards the open entryway.

Hunter smiled broadly and moved onto the balcony to look at the force. The first part of their mission had gone according to plan. Turning his back on the vista, he looked at his companions. All four survivors were bloodied and wounded, but all three had triumphant smiles on their dirty faces. They had completed an impossible mission.

Hunter pointed back out to the collapsed stairway. “I blocked the way up, but it was also the only way down.” He paused and moved back to the balcony. “You will be safe up here till they can get you some rope.”

“What about you?” asked the female warrior.

“I have more to do here today,” he said simply in response. Then he turned his back on his companions and dropped nimbly off the balcony.

He fell heavily for a second before his cloak spread out behind him, catching the wind and slowing his descent. He landed on the ground and sank into a crouch, but immediately got straight up, turning as he did and ran in through the open gatehouse.

Members of the human army were trying to push back the front ranks of the Nidavellir defenders, but Hunter did not have time to stop and help every human along the way. Now he had opened himself up to his powers, he could feel Dawn in his mind. He could taste her fear on his own tongue and feel it in the pit of his stomach.

Leaping high over the ranks of warriors, he landed on the other side and stabbed his sword behind him. The blade stuck into a Nidavellir who was readying a bow and arrow, sending the grey warrior sprawling to the ground and saving the human who he had been sighting on.

Zigzagging his way across the courtyard, his sword was a constantly moving silver blur, each movement bringing it into contact with Nidavellir fighters as they poured towards the gatehouse.

Storming up the steps to the keep, he threw out his mental energies into the heavy door closed before him. It held for a second before succumbing to his power. But the door did not open. Instead it splintered into a thousand shards, flying inwards like daggers. Hunter did not need to fight off any warriors as he continued his reckless pace across the entrance hall. All the warriors who had been guarding it were sprawled on the stone floor bleeding from dozens of wounds each. Despite the blood spilling to the floor, Hunter did not loose his balance. He used his mind to brace himself against the walls and keep his grip to the floor.

As he reached the back of the hall, he had a choice. Two arches led from the room. Left and Right. Closing his eyes he left his mind drift out down the corridors seeking his answers.

He sensed the one on the left led to great pain and suffering, while the one on the right led to what felt like an area empty of life. Hunter knew better. Those areas empty of life meant that more demons where that way.

Making a snap decision, he decided to head down the left tunnel. Towards the pain and suffering.

As he ran, the occasional Nidavellir came out of side rooms. But the creatures, natural born killers that they were, were still no match for him. But as he got deeper into the castle, he could better sense the pain that had leaked into the very walls of the fortress. It made him shiver.

Turning a bend, he came up short. The sight before him he had not expected. A huge room with an arching ceiling overhead was filled with an artificial lake. But the lake was not filled with water. Instead it was filled with blood. In it, wooden posts had been erected and to each post was chained a human.

Despite all the horrors he had seen over the few years of his training, and in the months since he had become a full Knight, nothing had prepared him for the sight and smell that now came to him.

The taste of bile rose up his throat as his eyes scanned the prisoners. They paused upon seeing a familiar blonde haircut.

“Spike!” yelled Hunter as he waded into the lake. His voice echoing off the walls overhead.

Spike turned and raised his head towards Hunter. “Bloody hell are you a sight for sore eyes!” he replied. “Get me the hell out of here!”

Hunter waded through the thick blood lake till it rose to his chest. He stopped by the pillar Spike was chained too and raised is sword over his head. He brought it down on the manacles and they split under the sharp blade, throwing sparks over the back of Spike’s neck. “Hey…. watch what your doing!” he yelled. Taking his arms from above his head he massaged his wrists. Then, he sank into the blood and opened his mouth.

Hunter frowned in disgust. Spike rose from the blood and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Oh… I tell you, you have no idea what torture it has been to be so close to blood and not be able to drink it!” Hunter began looking around for the others. Willow was nearby, the blood up by her chin as she looked weakly up at him.

He waded over to her and cut her free. She began to sink in the blood and Hunter slid an arm round her. “Spike,” he called. “Get her to the bank while I free the others.”

Spike nodded and moved over to them. He bent down and picked Willow clear of the blood, laving only her feet and arms dangling into it. He then began making his way over to the bank.

Hunter moved round from pillar to pillar, cutting down Giles, Tara, Wesley and Xander, plus all the other captives one by one. Some Spike helped to the bank, others Hunter levitated away.

Finally, in the deepest part of the lake, where the blood was so deep he actually found it easier swimming, he came across Edmond. The blood was up to Edmonds nose, and as he breathed, the air made ripples in the viscous fluid. Hunter swam up close and began to tread like he would in water. He nodded to Edmond who nodded fractionally in return. It was all the signal Hunter needed to know that his fellow Knight was unhurt. Hunter slashed his sword across the manacles holding his friend and together they swam back to the shore.

Pulling himself to dry ground, the blood began to drain from his clothing. Disgusted at the smell and feel of it, he left his power wash over his skin and through his clothes, removing the blood to pool onto the ground where it drained back into the lake.

“Better?” asked Edmond.

Hunter smiled slightly and held out his hand. “It’s good to see you alive Edmond.”

Edmond looked at the hand for a second before taking it hesitantly. “It’s good to be alive.”

Edmond did not look up at Hunter as he said that, but kept his attention firmly on the clasped hands. “I thought…” he started before breaking off.

Hunter let the smile slip from his face. “You thought what?” he asked puzzled slightly.

Edmond looked hesitantly up to Hunter’s face. “I thought you would be angry with me because I failed to protect them.” He said, the pain evident on his expression

Hunter smiled again. “I do not blame you Edmond. This is mainly Seth’s fault, but the Powers also have significant blame in our current affairs.

Edmond looked started at this revelation. They had been taught as Knights that the Powers acted in the best interests of the people under their realm. “It is a long story, and one I do not have time to tell now.”

Edmond nodded sharply. He was determined that he would find out the truth eventually. But Hunter was right. They could discuss all this once they had gotten away.

“I need my equipment,” said Edmond. Hunter nodded. Edmond needed his cloak to reverse the enchantment that had been used to block his powers. His enhanced weapons would certainly come in handy as well.

“Agreed,” said Hunter. “We find your gear together, then you will take the others out of here.”

“But,” began Edmond.

Hunter turned and looked sternly at Edmond. “But nothing, they are in no position to fight. It is your duty to help them.”

Edmond stood his ground and stared hard at Hunter. “You are going after Seth.” It was not a question, but Hunter nodded firmly anyway. “You might need help against him,” argued Edmond.

Hunter smiled slightly. “Take the others to safety, then…. if you must…. come back to help me.”

Edmond nodded. “Agreed. Now…. How do we get out of here?”

Edmond did a snap kick to the side of a Nidavellir head. The sound of bone breaking under the impact rebounded off the thick stonewalls, continuing to echo as the victim fell to the floor in a heap. He and Hunter were fighting side by side in a corridor with the others safely behind them and Spike bringing up the rear.

Their progress through the fortress had all but ground to a halt as the Nidavellir warriors began to mass on their location. Now they could not go a dozen feet without a handful of the grey demons trying to kill them.

“Clear,” said Hunter as he dropped the last of the current batch from his mental grip. The unconscious and bruised demon fell from the ceiling, where Hunter’s mind had held him, to land in a clatter of dented armour on the hard stone floor. Edmond had to force himself to suppress a slight smile. For while Hunter had engaged four of the Nidavellir with his sword, he had taken that one in a mental grip and thrown him around the corridor like a rubber ball. Bouncing him off the walls, ceiling, floor and the other demons. If their situation weren’t so desperate, it would have been funny.

“Clear,” responded Edmond and the two began to move forwards again. As they walked over the newly fallen bodies of a dozen Nidavellir, Edmond used the toe of his boot to flick up one of their dropped short swords to deftly catch it in his hand.

Edmond spared a look behind him to the others. Tara was guiding Willow with one hand. Willow whose eyes were covered by a scrap of cloth to hold her torn face together. Edmond noticed that Tara winced with every step she took, her free hand clutching her belly. He knew that Hunter had started their healing processes with his powers, but he also knew that if they were to all get out of there alive, his comrade needed to conserve as much of his strengths as possible. Xander, Wesley, Anya and Giles were relatively unhurt, and had appropriated weapons from fallen Nidavellir and were guarding their backs with Spike. Spike himself was mostly healed. It had seemed that the drink he had taken from the lake of blood had strengthened him. His face was now set with grim determination as he kept a watch on the possibility of attack from behind.

“So this Atrimus can get us home then?” asked Wesley.

Hunter nodded as he moved further down the corridor senses peeled for Dawn and any chance of attack. As they had moved through the fortress, he had been telling them about his adventures outside, and they about theirs inside. ”He agreed to send us all home in repayment of my defeating the Nidavellir army.”

“Where do we find this guy?” asked Spike from the rear.

“He will be watching for us when we leave the fortress.”

As they passed along the corridor, they came to a halt outside a wooden door set in a recessed arch. Edmond and Hunter assumed positions before the door, Edmond directly in front and Hunter to one side. The others fanned out around them to provide defence from attack from the corridor. The positions were getting all too familiar. For the past ten minutes, they had done the very same thing to every door they had come across. Hunter could not pinpoint Dawn’s location due to the interference of the stonewalls, so they were doing a room-by-room search. Judging by the size of the fortress though, they would be at it all night. But what else could they do?

Edmond nodded shortly at Hunter and received a nod in return. Then he lashed out with a booted foot at the side of the door. Warrior honed muscles impacted the wood and he could feel Hunter’s mental energies double the impact of the hit. The wood splintered into a hundred fragments around the lock as the door flew inwards. Before Edmond had even moved his leg out of the way, Hunter had ducked under it and into the room sword held at a guarding position.

Hunter shoved the swinging door with his shoulder, sending it back on its hinges to slam into the wall to ensure nothing was hiding behind it. The room was unlike the others they had investigated so far. For one, this was no living room or storeroom. For another, this one was occupied.

Four mage Nidavellir, distinguishable by their red cowls, stood around a wooden bench in the middle of the room. Three of the four walls were covered in shelves that were stacked with glass bottles and vials filled with colourful powders and liquids.

All four of the mages looked up started as Hunter moved towards them, eyes fixed to the bloodied longsword. Their gaze followed the sword as it suddenly dropped from Hunter’s hand to clatter on the floor. For a second, Edmond thought that the mages must have done some sort of spell. But his mind quickly caught on. Hunter was going for prisoners to question. Hunter moved closer and lashed out with his fists. The first blow was an uppercut that contacted with the open jaw of the nearest Nidavellir, snapping it shut and lifting the diminutive demon clear off his feet to land sprawled on his back across the wooden bench.

Hunter span on his right heel, lifting his left leg up and around to catch the next closest demon across the chest and sending him backwards to the floor. The impact of bone on the floor echoed like thunder.

Hunter continued the progress of his left leg, and then pushed off the ground with his right while grabbing the edge of the wooden bench. Using the momentum he had gained and his arms as a pivot, to place himself over the bench. When he was directly over it, his arms pushed off as well, causing him to fly over the table to land directly between the last two Nidavellir. His now free arms out to his side to provide balance also connecting with the two mages and throwing them backwards into the shelves. The sound of breaking wood and smashing glass punctuated Hunter suddenly standing straight; facing the doorway he had entered through as Edmond only just cleared the archway around it.

It was then that the two Knights noticed what was lying on the bench between them. Edmond’s gear. Hunter smiled slightly as Edmond dashed towards the table. Suddenly the cloak laying on it began to move of its own accord, reaching out to meet Edmond’s outstretched arm. When cloak touched his flesh, it began to flow like an oil slick up his arms, wrapping around him till it hung off his shoulders. Hunter felt a warm wind face past him, knowing that the cloak had removed the curse that had kept Edmond from his powers. That was further confirmed when Edmond’s quarterstaff flew up from the bench to land in his palm where he twirled it around in a complex series of arms before and around him before finally snapping it against his arm.

Hunter turned round and bent down to pick up one of the mages in his fists. Hauling the demon to his feet, Hunter lifted him clear off the floor and shook him. “Where is she?” he demanded, his rage rushing towards the surface where he only barley kept it contained.

“Hre-tnue IL kirapr!” came the strangled reply.

“Where is Dawn…?” demanded Hunter. “Where is The Key?” he snarled in his face.

“Key?” the Nidavellir repeated in heavily accented English while he pointed straight up.

“Hunter!” Edmond’s voice cut into Hunters barely contained rage and he thought for a second that his fellow Knight was going to chastise him for his anger. Hunter turned his head to tell Edmond not to interfere and saw that the man was not looking at him, but at the floor by his feet instead. It was then the he noticed the edge of near panic in the tone.

Curios as to what he would see, and partly dreading to look, Hunter glanced at his feet.

A thick blanket of red smoke had covered the floor, and just showing through were the smashed bottles and vials. Hunter’s mind catalogued some of the labels he could read and the knowledge of what had happened sank n.

“Oh….” he cried as he threw the mage over the bench with enough force to send him crashing out the door. He pushed off the ground with his legs, using his powers to give himself a telekinetic boost. Edmond was already out the door and dragging the newly unconscious demon away.

As Hunter leapt across the table, the mixture of chemicals reached their critical mass and ignited. A fireball blossomed, sweeping around and over the bench before blasting it apart. The other bottles on the shelves exploded into shards, adding their own chemicals to the mix.

“Shiiiittttt….” cried Hunter as the fireball swept him up from his jump and threw him clean out the door to slam into the wall of the corridor with jarring force, flames licking around him as he shrank back under the protection of his cloak.

As the flames died away, Hunter dropped to the ground for a second and just lay there staring up at the ceiling panting heavily and covered in sweat. Edmond rushed back up the corridor where he had been moving the others away. “Matthew?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” he said in return. “That was close….”

Edmond nodded as he leaned over his comrade, smiling. “I always told you that you should never play with fire!”

Hunter frowned up at his fellow knight, then smiled broadly. “I can’t help it if I’m hot stuff,” he joked in return.

“Bloody hell, broke in Spike. “Are you two going to be joking about this for long? We do have pressing engagements elsewhere you know!”

The moment of humour was short lived as the gravity of their situation pressed back in on them. “You’re right Spike.” Hunter did a flip to land back on his feet and he mentally called his longsword to his hand. It too had been caught in the explosion and had gotten stuck into the stonewall of the corridor.
Hunter looked seriously at Edmond. “Take the others and get out of here.”

Edmond defiantly stood his ground. “We should stick together.”

Hunter shook his head and pointed to the wounded Willow and Tara. “This is no place for them in that condition. Take them home.”

Xander stepped forwards his face set in grim determination and indignation “Hey, I'm not going anywhere without Dawn!”

Giles stepped up besides him with a similar expression on his face. “I agree. We all go home together.”

“Too bloody right!” chimed in Spike.

Hunter closed his eyes and lowered his head to rest his chin on his chest. “Where I am going, there will be no room for error and no room for you.”

“No wait just a minute!” demanded Giles. “How dare you dismiss us! We have all faced….”

“No!” yelled Hunter. “I am going to face the most powerful knight ever trained by Merlin. My chances of surviving the encounter are small enough. Yours are even smaller.”

Wesley stepped forwards and pushed his glasses back from the edge of his nose. “But if we stick together.”

“No,” broke in Hunter again firmly. “It would only take a though from Seth to kill any of you. Edmond and I are the only ones who even have a remote chance against him. I will not throw your lives away.”

“At least take me with you,” stated Edmond. “Together we….”

Hunter shook his head and broke in again. “You need to get them home Edmond. There is an entire army of Nidavellir between you and Atrimus. Spike is a good fighter, but even he can’t keep them all safe.”

“He’s right. Especially as I’m not going home,” replied Spike.
Hunter frowned at Spike. “I didn’t just say all this for my health Spike.”

Spike set his jaw. “I’m not leaving without the nibblet. I would rather die than let down….” He broke off, his sentence unfinished. But Hunter knew instinctively what he was going to have said. He would rather die than let down another member of the Summers’ family. Hunter had recruited Spike to watch Dawn when he could not. Now it had come back to bite him in the arse.

“Alright then, this is how we will do it.” Hunter looked at each of them in turn. “No arguments this time,” he said forcefully. “Spike will come with me. While I distract Seth, he will get Dawn.” At this Spike smiled and hefted his borrowed axe. “Edmond will take the rest of you to Atrimus. Tara and Willow need better medical attention than I can give them at the moment. Join with the human army if you don’t want to leave till Spike brings Dawn.”

“What do you mean till Spike brings Dawn?” asked Willow, the fear that they were all undoubtedly feeling showing in her shaky voice. “What about you?”

Hunter moved up to her and placed a hand gently against her cheek, rubbing away a spot of blood with his thumb. “You don’t expect to come back do you?”

Hunter moved away from her as she continued to look where he moved despite her eyes being covered with the blood stained cloth. “Like I said, Seth is the most powerful knight ever trained by Merlin. All I have to do is slow him down while you all escape. Once back on Earth, Edmond could to take you all to Tintagel castle. Even Seth would not dare to try anything there.”

Hunter moved further away again. “Come on Spike. We have an appointment with the devil.”

Hunter turned his back on the others and stalked off down the corridor, cloak billowing out behind him and never looking back. Spike took one long look at each of the gang in turn, and then he too moved off after Hunter.

Seth swept into the ceremony hall and glanced at his victim. Dawn had been removed from the altar which was now covered in magical tomes and two black candles. He could still see the young girl over the stone plinth though. She had merely been chained between two upright pillars.

He regarded her coldly from where he stood in the shadows. She was all but hanging from the manacles that held her upright. Despite the fact that the position probably hurt her arms, she had only just been given the use of her legs again, and so was probably too weak to use them.

Moving to the tomes stretched across the altar, he began to read the last parts of the ritual. He had expected to be doing this in his own time across a few days, not crammed into a few minutes.

He closed his eyes in concentration for a moment and tried to search out the presence of the two knights in his fortress. The nature of the stones of the fortress meant that many life sensitive people would have difficulty with such a task. But he did not. Simply because of his experience and time in the building, and the secret knowledge he held.

All the stones were designed to focus the powers to one location in the construct. This room. More specifically to the point between the two stone columns where Dawn now hung.

From this room with its focused life energies, it became so much easier to use his powers. He could sense Edmond somewhere below him and moving away. He could also sense the presence of the two witches and the other humans. They were all moving away from him towards the main courtyard.

That made him puzzle for a second. Surely they knew of the Nidavellir forces concentration on that area. But then again, even the warrior elite of the Nidavellir was no match for a knight. As had been proven many times today.

But where was Hunter? Seth concentrated harder to try to find his current nemesis but he was undetectable.

That thought began to nibble at the edges of his concentration so he pushed the mental probe away and went back to reading the tomes.

“Eh re’ talrush?” came the high-pitched voice of a Nidavellir mage from behind him.

“Yes, yes,” replied Seth distractedly. “The candles must be thirty feet from the pillars.”

“No rek tobruk?” came the inquisitive response.

Seth turned and glowered at the grey skinned demon. “No,” he said raising his voice. “Use the tomes that I left for you, its what they’re there for!”

He made a move to clout the demon across the side of his pallid head, but the demon backed away in a bow before the blow connected.

Seth glared at the demon as he turned his back on the knight and moved over to a small knot of his fellows each holding a candlestick topped with more black candles.

Seth shook his head and turned back to his studies, rubbing his temple as he did. Because of Hunter, he was getting pressed for time. He was confident that he could defeat the younger knight as he had defeated so many of his kind in the past. But to do so would leave him tired and unable to do the ceremony for some time.

After all, he was under no illusions that he was getting old now. It had been 30 years since he had abandoned the order of the knights. And he had been twenty-one at the time. He had used his powers over the years to slow the ageing process in his body, so he did not look his age. But the grey hairs were beginning to creep into his black.

The door to the ceremony hall burst open again as two more Nidavellir, warriors this time, rushed into the room and towards him.

Seth bellowed in rage as their high-pitched chittering in their native tongue interrupted his readings. Turning on one leg, he reached out with his mind and threw an invisible wall of force at the two. The short grey demons stopped dead and tumbled backwards like they had run full out into a solid wall, their armour clattering against the stone.

He tightened the mental grip and hauled the two demons to their feet and slammed them hard into the wall next to the door they had entered through as they began to chitter abject apologies to him with very real auras of fear emanating from them.

Stalking towards them, he reached out his hands and placed them on their cool temples and let his power wash through their alien minds like a tornado. Their thoughts and memories were swept up before his minds eye, flashing before his vision as he closed his eyes to see them better.

When he had gotten what he needed, he released his grip and the flow of power ebbed away. The two demons slid down the walls to land in a tangle of limbs at the base. Their bloodshot eyes nearly totally rolled up into their skulls.

They were not dead. But they were no long totally alive either. They had been reduced to mindlessness. “Apology accepted,” muttered Seth as he turned his back on the two and returned to the altar.

Off to the side, the Nidavellir mages seemed to work just a little harder at their assigned tasks, also pretending that they had not seen what had just happened.

Dawn, watching from under half closed eyelids let out the smallest of shivers. If he could do something like that to those on his own side, what did he have in store for her?

**********

Hunter and Spike climbed the last set of stairs to the top level of the fortresses keep. The only thing above them now was the roof. Of course, it also meant that what was below them was an entire garrison of Nidavellir.

Hunter leant round the stone arch that marked the top of the staircase and looked down the corridor. It was long and wide with occasional balconies off to the side. The grey stones prevalent elsewhere in the fortress had given way to a more golden hue on this level, enhanced by the regular wall sconces filled with bright yellow flames.

What drew Hunter’s attention more though was the mass of demons filling the centre of the corridor. Most were the typical Nidavellir that he had fought and slain so many of today. But there were a dozen of the same species as the demon lord.

Hunter moved his head back behind the arch and leant against the wall. Closing his eyes for a moment, he stretched out his senses. He could now feel Dawn and her fear. He knew she was just the other side of the massed troops, and she was running out of time.

“Looks bad huh?” asked Spike as he came to a halt next to Hunter.

Leaning his head against the cool stone, he glanced at the determined expression on Spikes face. “I’ve seen worse today,” Hunter responded calmly.

“Well,” the vampire replied hefting the double bladed axe in his hands, “I guess there’s nothin’ else but to do this.”

Hunter nodded and moved away from the wall. “Remember, I take on Seth. You just get Dawn and get the hell out of here.”

“Ready?” asked Hunter as he tightened the grip on his longsword. Spike looked at the knight and nodded. The two men sharing a moment before what seemed like a suicidal mission against the worst enemies around. There, in that one moment, they had developed a bond. Both knew that they were doing this for love. Spike for the love he lost, Hunter for the love he could yet have. “It’s time to find out if love conquers all,” remarked Hunter and the two exchanged grim smiles.

Without any word between them, they both turned and ran round the corner and straight towards the massed ranks. As they ran, they bellowed a wordless war cry at the top’s of their voices and brandished their weapons before themselves.

The front rank of Nidavellir rushed out to meet them, also brandishing their short swords.

Hunter met the first one with a telekinetic shove, throwing him back to where he had started from head over heels. Another he sliced cleanly in two with a parallel slash from his sword before turning it vertical to meet a counter strike from the warrior next to him.

Spike fared worse as four at the same time approached him, but he dropped low and swung the war axe in an arc. Three of the four dropped to the ground clutching at severed limbs and torn abdomens, their green blood splashing over the stone floor. The fourth managed to stop just before the axe passed before him, bringing his sword down behind it and sweeping the axe further away. Spike let the axe go further, but took a hand from the hilt and punched the diminutive warrior in the groin. A high pitched squeal came from the demons lips and Spike continued the spin of the axe, turning on the balls of his feet till he completed a circle and brought the axe round to slice open the stomach of the warrior.

Hunter parried an attack from below with his sword, sweeping it down to the ground and punching the attacker in the jaw. Hunter felt the Nidavellir’s jaw snap under h blow, but he also felt one his fingers pop out of joint, sending an unbelievably sharp jab of pain into his hand and forcing it open from a fist. More pain came from the movement, but it also snapped the dislocated bone back into position with a fresh wave of pain. Hunter let some of his power flow into the hand and it immediately began to feel a whole lot better as it accelerated the healing of minor tissue and nerve damage.

Keeping his hurt hand free from the hilt of his blade, he pointed it straight at the rapidly approaching demons and focused his energies into it. A glowing ball of energy formed in between his spread fingers and it flew out to cross the distance. The ball of energy impacted one of the demons and lifted him clean off his feet to tumble down the corridor. He came to rest with a smoking hole in its chitinous chest plate and black blood oozing from the charred wound.

Hunter formed another of the energy balls and let if fly at the next closest demon. This one, having seen what had happened to its comrade, dived towards the floor. Its natural body armour making a clacking sound as he hit the stone.

Hunter pushed off the ground with his right leg, leaping up to the head height of the Nidavellir. Like some cheesy action film stunt, he stepped on the head of the nearest one, forcing its helmet further down over its baldhead and covering the eyes. The demon let out a squeal of surprise as it’s legs bucked under the suddenly increased weight and flee towards the ground even as Hunter somersaulted off the demon to land on the floor. His sword held pointing straight down in front of him, impaled the demon that had dived there just a second ago as he was attempting to get up.

The enchanted blade slid through the chitinous plate across his back and pressed the body to the ground, black blood welling up around the now blood stained silver blade.

Spike karate chopped down upon the shoulder of a Nidavellir casing the grey demon to drop the sword that was sticking through Spike’s long coat. “Damn it!” he exclaimed as he examined the torn fabric. “Do you know how expensive these are?”

Spike looked up just in time to see the Nidavellir punch him on the nose. He felt cartilage bend as the blow nearly broke his nose, and he tasted the coppery tang of his own blood fill his mouth.

Spike bellowed and felt himself shift to his demon form. Throwing the axe still in his right hand, the weapon caught one of the larger demons in the forehead. The blade slicing into the skull and exploded blood and dark material across the stonewall where they began to slide slowly down to the floor.

He took a hold of the Nidavellir that had hit him on the nose and lifted the smaller demon above his head and threw him through a nearby archway, just catching a glimpse of the demon bouncing off the guardrail of balcony beyond as he turned his attention back to the battle at hand.

Hunter, pressed back to the side of the corridor wall, saw what Spike did with the Nidavellir that had hit him and smiled to himself. The larger ones seemed to have a partial immunity to his powers, but it showed him an easy way of getting rid of the annoying smaller demons.

Reaching out with his mind, he felt the presence of all the Nidavellir still alive in the corridor. He grasped each one in a vice like grip and lifted them off their feet to dangle in the air.
Then, with only a moments hesitation, he threw them all towards the nearby balcony, sending a dozen of the grey warriors tumbling the hundred feet to the courtyard below. That just left nine of the other demon lord type demons.

Hunter moved up next to Spike as the Vampire picked up a dropped short sword, and together they waded into the last of their opposition.

Hunter went first, hacking at the demons with little prowess, just butchery. They were so close together that they could not manoeuvre their two handed blades properly to attack or defend. Where Hunter moved his blade, chitinous armour plates cracked and black blood began to flow. While Spike followed up the first attacks and opened the wounds that had been made and spilled more blood on the ground, along with the occasional misshapen lump of organ.

As Hunter finished a pirouette with his longsword, he froze amongst the carnage. He and Spike had done it. They had a clear run down the corridor.

Hunter looked over his shoulder to see Spike hacking at a demon that had nicked his thigh with a lucky shot. Blood and heavier things that Hunter’s mind would prefer not to think about flew as the blade ate away at the chitin and flesh in a frenzy.

“Spike!” yelled Hunter to get the vampires attention.

The vampire looked up at him, black blood running in rivulets down his skin and a wild feral look in his vamped out face. Hunter knew when Spike realised what the young knight saw in that face, because the vampire turned his head away. When it turned back, the face had returned to it’s normal human like appearance, and most of the blood had been wiped away on a sleeve.

Hunter coolly gazed at the vampire for a while longer, and then with a barely noticeable nod, set off down the corridor again.

Spike looked at the billowing caped form of Hunter walk away from him and internally cursed himself for letting control of himself. He was looking for respect amongst the rest of the gang. He was trying to atone for failing Buffy, culminating in her death. Now was not the time to go all demon on Hunter.

Seth took his hands away from the parchment he had been reading and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of what was to come. The parchment, having spent countless decades or longer stored in the massive archive beneath the fortress, rolled back up of its own accord to its accustomed position with a slight rustle.

He approached the two columns that were attached to the key with enchanted manacles with a feral grin on his face. After all this time, he would finally have the power he needed to exact his revenge on earth. More importantly, he would have the power to face down Merlin and the other knights. With the order defeated, he would be able to train up his own band of warriors like he had done with Morgan.

With an army of such warriors under his command, he could invade the other realms and conquer them. He could usher in a reign that would allow the Dark Ones to destroy the infernal Powers That Be. Now that would be a battle to behold!

As he stepped up before Dawn, he took a hold of her head by her chin and made her face him. She was limp in his arms and did not resist. Unconscious he thought momentarily. It did not matter. She only needed to be alive for the ritual to work. He let go of her chin and her head lolled to one side like it was boneless. Moving back, he stepped towards the huddled group of Nidavellir mages that had gathered to the side of the hall.

Morgan stood off to the side, shrouded in her blood red cape, her sickle strapped across her back. “Go and deal with the army down in the courtyard. I will be down after I have completed the ceremony, ” he said to his student before starting to talk with the mages.

“Yes my master,” she said flatly to Seth’s back before bowing to him and walking out the doors. Seth felt her hesitate for a brief second about which way to go down to the courtyard, mentally cataloguing that she turned away from the main staircase to take a smaller side one that would lead down to the Nidavellir barracks.

Seth smiled. She did not like being dismissed so out of hand. Before he had found her, she had been a powerful witch. Now, she was still a powerful witch, but she was also his pupil in the ways of the knights. Here, he was the master.

**********

Dawn opened her eyes a fraction, like she was squinting into the sun, at the sound of Seth’s footsteps moving away. At seeing the cloaked back come to a halt next to the assembled Nidavellir she opened her eyes more and began to scan the room again. She was beginning to get desperate. Earlier, during the…. What was the word? Contact? It was as good as any. Earlier during the contact she had with Seth, she had seen that Giles, Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya, Spike, Edmond and Wesley had been led away to the deepest dungeons that the fortress possessed. She knew that, despite her promise to do whatever Seth required of her in exchange for her friends freedom, he had not kept his word.

That meant that she needed to do something about it. She felt she had to do something about it.

Looking at the manacles that held her up, she pulled on one experimentally. It rattled slightly and Dawn had to pretend to be unconscious again as the slight noise drew the attention of a Nidavellir mage.

Squinting once again at the group, as Seth appeared to be relaying final instructions about what the magicians were to do for the ceremony, she made sure that they were not paying any attention to her once again.

The manacles had not moved. She had heard that they had been enchanted, so it was unlikely that she would be able to break them. Maybe even Buffy could not have broken them.

The thought of her sister sent a pang of grief through her soul. But she quickly shoved it away. She had been down the road of grief and it had nearly cost her so much the first time. Morgan had pushed her so deeply into her grief that she became lost in her own body. But she had gone willingly because in her own body and mind, Buffy was not really dead. No, she would not let grief about events she could not change cause her to loose herself again.

But what could she do? She closed her eyes and resumed her position of feigned unconsciousness as her mind began to race to find any possible solution out of her predicament.

But all it came up with was a plea. I wish Matthew were here….

**********

Angelus followed a Nidavellir guide through the hidden passages up to the ceremony hall. He had words that he needed to share with Seth. So up he rose, loosing count of the twists turns and steps that he took.

Then, rounding a corner, he was faced with a door that opened out to the ceremony hall behind a heavy tapestry. As he pushed past he, he took a glance at the vivid colours and patterns that made up the image on the fabric. It looked like a horror story of two armies facing off. Little two dimensional figures were frozen in time forever, hacking and slashing at each other with primitive weapons. Angelus catalogues at least twelve figures that had lost their heads to attackers on one side, the heads seemingly being carried back through the lines of the army on long poles. The forces on the other side seemed smaller and less in number. But they fought on. Angelus had no idea if the tapestry depicted a simple battle, or if it had a deeper meaning. To tell the truth, he could not care less at the moment.

Taking his attention away from the hanging, he surveyed the ceremony hall. The altar was near enough in the centre of the room, but what was new was that between two of the stone pillars that supported the vaulted roof overhead hung Dawn, seemingly unconscious. Walking forwards, he looked up and down her body. There was noting sexual to the look. Well, not really. It was more of a blood thing with him. But then again, taking someone’s life by drinking their blood generated a feeling of such pleasure in vampires that it was close to having sex.

He studied the curves of her legs, following them up till they disappeared under the hem of her skirt at mid thigh. Her skin was still pale after he had taken some of her blood earlier, and it contrasted stunningly with the black of her dress.

The rest of the room was pretty much as he remembered it. The cage to one side of the main door was still there. It was just the addition of Dawn between the two columns and the candle stands arrayed about her.

Moving closer, he ran a hand through her hair. It was amazingly soft to the touch, but the colour or feel was not what aught his attention. It was the fact that she had moved. It was a reflex reaction to her being surprised by his approach. She was awake and had been shocked by someone suddenly touching her hair. She had involuntarily shuddered before getting it under control. But it was enough to give her away to him.

Angelus smiled and took a fist full of her silky smooth hair and pulled it down violently,
Dawn screamed in pain.

Seth spun round his hand sliding under his cloak and come out with his sword in hand before he realised who was there and that his ticked to ultimate power was safe. “Angelus, what are you doing here?”

Angelus let go of Dawn’s hair and leaned his front against her back while laying his hands on her shoulders. “Well gee. I don’t know,” he said sarcastically. “Perhaps I’m still here because you haven’t sent me back to earth yet!”

Seth frowned and stepped away from the Nidavellir mages that he had just finished instructing on the chants they were to do. “I've been a little busy my friend,” Seth replied. But the tone of his voice made sure there was no doubt that the two were not friends.

“I’ve done what you asked me to do,” said Angelus as he ran a hand over Dawn’s cheek. She tried to turn her head away from the touch but then realised that he was lowering his head towards her now exposed neck. An involuntary shudder ran through her body as she recalled the feeling of teeth sinking into her flesh. But she fought it down and returned her head to a normal position looking straight forwards and standing straight.

Seth looked on for the briefest of seconds before he smiled slightly at Dawn. She patently ignored him and stared defiantly at a spot on the wall. “So Angelus, you have studied the texts that I provided?”

Angelus nodded. “There was some interesting stuff in them. Including a few references to your little ceremony here. I have to admit I’m curious.”

Seth furrowed his brow. “This is not your concern.”

Angelus shrugged. “What harm can it do? It’s not like I could do the ceremony is it?”

Seth looked over his shoulder to the group of Nidavellir as they watched the exchange intently. What harm indeed? “Very well,” he said returning his attention to the vampire. “I intend to take the power of The Key and make it my own.”

Angelus looked down at the back of Dawn’s head and sniggered. “Hear that sweetie? Something to look forward to.”

Seth shook his head. Why did he have to do this? Why Angelus? Why couldn’t he have gotten a nice ordinary vampire? He knew the answer of course. The Dark Ones had requested that he turn vampire with a soul. So a vampire with a soul they got.

“I have one question though.”
“Yes?” asked Seth distractedly as his mind for the hundredth wondered why the Darks Ones had such a fascination with Angel.

“Why not just use the dagger like you did for me earlier?”

Seth regarded the vampire and The Key. “Have you ever touched a mains electrical cable on earth?” he asked.

Angelus frowned, wondering what that had to do with anything. “No,” he replied simply.

“Well if I used the dagger on The Key, then the amount of power that it would have to channel in one go would not only destroy the dagger, but would likely burn me to ashes. So I must take it slower and in a more controlled rate. Hence the ceremony,” explained Seth.

“Anyway, we are getting off topic. You say you read all the texts? Did you practices on any of the slaves?”

Angelus shook his head. “They all seem to have run off to join the army that is fighting in the courtyard.”

Seth swore under his breath. “I will deal with that in time,” he said darkly. Then he smiled again at another idea. Not all of the humans had left the fortress. “Do I get a demonstration?”

Angelus looked startled for a moment, like he was wondering if Seth had actually heard what he had said. Then it occurred to him. “On who? Dawn?” Angelus asked a look of glee rising on his face.

Seth looked at Dawn for the briefest of moments. “Certainly. Nothing you can do to her except kill her will affect the ceremony.”

Angelus let go of Dawn and stepped past her, ducking under the manacle that kept her arm up and to the side. He moved to stand in front of her, his back to her front, and shifted to his vampire features before turning to face her.

Dawn wanted to take a step back from that face that she was sure was a visage of the devil himself. But the chains held her fast to the spot so she could do little but stare in horror at the vampire before her.

Angelus’s eyes began to glow from inside. Going from their accustomed brow to yellow. Dawn felt her own eyes drawn to the glowing orbs. Then suddenly, Angelus disappeared from in front of her.

She began to look around her in a rising panic, her mind racing with the same thought. Where has he gone? Where has he gone? Seth, standing off to the side smiled. It had worked Angelus was still standing right before Dawn, but she was unable to see him. “Show me what else you can do,” he commanded with mild excitement in his voice.

Angelus looked over his shoulder and smiled at Seth, barring his already prominent teeth. Turning his gaze back towards Dawn, she gasped as he reappeared before her. His eyes still glowing yellow, he took a step closer. In a voice that was almost a whisper, he talked to her. “Show me your neck…. show me you neck so that I may feed.”

Dawn shook her head once, but as it returned to facing the front, her eyes caught those yellow orbs that glowed down at her from an all too familiar face. As her vision focused involuntarily on them, she felt her mind slipping away from her control. She wanted to fight it but did not know where to begin. Then she found herself tilting her head to the side to present her neck. The same side of her neck that was still coated in a now dried residue of her own blood.

Angelus smiled again and leaned forwards. His breath whispered along her skin and she felt it tingle. She wanted him to bite her so badly. She would have given anything for the sensation of teeth breaking her skin. For the feel of her blood leaving her body.

Seth reached out with his mind and probed Dawn and Angelus. He could feel the vampires confidence growing as his mouth neared Dawn’s neck inch by slow inch. He could feel her response. She wanted it. Seth smiled at his accomplishment. In Angelus he had a warrior with the ability to command humans. Only someone of power that had been trained to could resist him now. A slayer, or a knight. Or even another demon. But no ordinary human.

Angelus’s teeth brushed Dawn’s skin causing her to shudder. Angelus momentarily unsure pulled back a little. But he could feel her need in his own body and it made him hungry. He rushed his head back to her neck and sank fangs into the soft flesh there. Blood welled up into his mouth and ran down his throat in a wave of glorious taste and warmth. He felt Dawn shudder in pleasure and it echoed in him. He had always enjoyed the blood taking before. But it had never been this…. what was the word? Exciting, pleasurable, tasty? They all applied here, but were inadequate to what he was feeling.

Dawn made a little sound of pleasure deep in her throat as the sensations built while her blood left her body. Thoughts spread through her mind like wild fire. This is what being human is all about…. This is so wonderful…. More, I need more.

“That’s enough Angelus,” interrupted Seth.

Angelus ignored the dark knight and continued to feed. The pleasure of the meal building in him and Dawn. Instinctively he knew that the sensation would crescendo only when he had had his fill. Of course that was likely to result in Dawn’s death. But details details.

“I said that’s enough!” roared Seth. He reached out with his mind and physically grabbed Angelus and tore her away from Dawn. The vampire tumbled back to the ground as she let out a moan that quickly turned into a whimper as she went slack in the manacles again.

Seth stormed forwards to Angelus. Reaching down, he grabbed the vampire by the scruff of the neck in both hands and hauled him to his feet before lifting him bodily into the air. “Never,” he bellowed, “Never, disobey me. Ever!”

Snarling at Angelus who could do little but smile dreamily back at him, he threw the vampire away to send him sprawling to the foot of the altar.

Angelus turned over and rested his back against the black silk covered stone and closed his eyes in ecstasy.

Seth turned back to Dawn and crossed the distance in five long strides, his cape billowing around him. Grabbing her by the head with both hands, he turned it so he could examine the bite marks. The puncture wounds that were normal for a bite were missing. Instead they had been turned into two ragged deep gashes that bled profusely and would undoubtedly scar if she ever healed.

Seth snorted in frustration. The chances are she would bleed to death before he could complete the ceremony. Resigned to keeping her alive at least that long, he stretched out his mind and caressed the wound with his thoughts. The blood began to clot at an accelerated rat, slowing the bleeding down till it stopped.

He did not care to do a full healing job. His concern was that she lived to the end of the ceremony. Anything beyond that was just a bonus. She did not even have to be alive for him to gain pleasure from her. It would not be the first time that he had taken a dead woman to his bed. He frowned. But that woman had been animated by powerful necromancy. Good thing he had Morgan still around then. Although the woman would undoubtedly be jealous of him taking the body of a dead teenager to his bed rather than her.

In fact, to see the look on her face if he had to make her do it was almost enough to want him to see Dawn die. But, in the scheme of things, it was probably better if she survived the ceremony. Better for him. Not for her.

The thoughts of her torment as he used her drained body for his own gratification was enough to excite him. But when he realised that he had spent a full minute looking down at her pale face, eyes half closed in what could be described as a post sexual low, he forced his thoughts back to the present.

“We will begin the ceremony!” he told the Nidavellir mages in the corner. They all bowed to him and moved to take up positions before the candelabras. When each was in place, they began to chant in their own language. The chant building and overlapping in a cacophony of words.

Seth felt the power inside the circle defined by the guttering flames of the candles grow. He began his own chant in a language that was, till recently, long lost to mists of time.

The power built more as he reached out with his mind and levitated a small ornate bowl filled with a black tar like substance from off the altar to his outstretched hand. Dipping his fingers into the substance, he felt the power go from feeling hot, to ice cold and it sent a shiver down his spine that made him smile.

Withdrawing his fingers, he raised the hand to Dawn’s face and began to draw symbols on them. Once across her forehead, one on each eyelid, two on each cheek, one on her chin stretching down her neck. Then, finally, one over her heart. The tar-like substance stayed liquid on her skin, but as he applied it to her clothes over her heart, the material soaked it up. Seth knew that the substance had gone through the fabric and had attached itself to her skin. If he were to tear the fabric away, the symbol would be there.

He then returned his fingers to the bowl. More tar-like substance adhered to his hand and he withdrew it to trace similar symbols across his own face. Then, he too drew one across his heart.

The power that was contained in the circle of candles suddenly found the marks on their bodies and filled them up. The black paste dried in an instant and began to glow. Not really glow, because they were glowing black. It was more like the absence of light was glowing.

Seth laughed as he pressed himself forwards and wrapped his body around Dawn’s. His right arm went around her waist to hold her from behind. His left went over her shoulder to hold her head up and allow him to place his cheek against hers. Then he tucked his right leg between her legs while the left went down the side. As much of their bodies as possible were touching with Seth spooning his form against Dawn’s.

The symbols began to feel like they were burning ice. But, suddenly, Seth felt Dawn’s power rise up from her core and begin to leak into his being. It was like standing in a flowing river of warm water. It washed around him and into him, energising him and making him feel more powerful that he ever though possible.

Seth laughed louder as the chant continued around him and he drained Dawn of her essence.

The double doors that faced Hunter and Spike were huge, stretching to twice their height. They were made from a heavy, dark wood that was studded with iron nails.

"How the hell are we supposed to get past these buggers?" demanded Spike after he had pushed against one of the doors with all his strength.

Hunter made no reply as he ran his hands over the cool surface of the wood, his eyes scanning it as they went.

Spike turned to the Knight to see if he would respond to his question. But as he saw what the young man was doing, he stopped and watched in interest. He had seen many strange things in his life, and he had a feeling that he was about to see another.

Hunter continued to run his hand over the wood till his left reached a point that was just above waist height and slightly off to the side of his body. Then he moved his right hand till it was over the same spot and pushed slightly.

Spike moved to look at where he was pushing just as Hunter moved away with a slight smile on his face. "Here will do nicely," he muttered under his breath.
"What will do nicely?" asked Spike in reply.

"Stand back Spike and be ready," came the cryptic response.

"Ready for…." Spike never got a chance to finish asking the question. Hunter took another step backwards to the middle of the corridor and closed his eyes. Before his face the air began to shimmer like it did in the heat of the day. But instead of the shimmer rising into the air, it formed into a visible ball.

Spike walked round behind Hunter keeping his eyes on the shimmering ball of air, a dozen questions on his mind. But before he could ask any of them, the ball doubled in size.

Spike took a step further away from Hunter and nervously tightened his grip on his hand axe as the ball increased in size again and seemed to vibrate in the air.

Spike watched a small bead of sweat gather above Hunter's right eye as his brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

Then suddenly, the ball was moving forwards like a bullet.

It contacted with the door exactly where Hunter had placed his hands mere moments before. The great door shuddered and groaned under the strain for a fraction of a second before shattering into a thousand splinters that shot into the room with a billowing cloud of sawdust.

Hunter was moving through the shattered door as Spike stood for a second his jaw hanging down at the spectacle he had just witnessed. But he recovered quickly and slid through the mess of sawdust and falling splinters.

**********

Seth turned his head towards the double doors as they exploded inwards, but quickly turned his head away again as he felt the bite of splinters against his skin even from where he was past the middle of the room. Around him the Nidavellir broke from their positions by the candelabras’ chittering at the tops of their voices in panic.

He spared a second in panic as knew that Hunter was responsible for the door. He could feel his presence now. It was like a tornado of energy sweeping through the settling sawdust and splinters. But the panic passed, and he began to calculate what he could do now. He doubted that the mages would be able to put up much of a fight against Hunter, but he was also unsure of his ability to stop the ceremony. In theory, now that he had started to drain Dawn’s essence, it would continue to pour out of her and into him. The contact between their bodies was not, he believed, necessary, it just helped.

Deciding to take a gamble, he decided he would have to step away from Dawn.

**********

As Hunter pierced the veil of sawdust he almost stumbled at the sensations that assaulted his senses as he entered the room. It was filled with power centred in a direct line away from him, past a large stone altar. His eyes tracked upwards and he felt the look of horror on his face that matched the feeling that settled into his soul.

Seth was enfolded around Dawn. His body wound round hers like a lover. As Seth stepped away, Hunter’s eyes remained looking at Dawn as she sagged in the manacles that kept her chained to the spot. Her head lolled to one side, eyes closed, with her hair falling like a veil around her pale face. He could see the wound at her neck still oozing the slightest amount of blood, adding to the already massive red stain against her skin.

Hunter found himself moving forwards towards the altar, anger growing deep inside him to replace the horror. “No!” he screamed. “Dawn!”

Seth turned to face him with a look that was indescribable. It was the sort of manic glee that only the truly evil could have. The sort of look that said ‘I take pleasure in other peoples pain’. Hunter sent his right hand under his cloak and he grasped the hilt of his longsword. The cool grip felt like his last link to the world as he drew it out, throwing his cape out behind him on the right side like one of those emergency breaking parachutes. “Seth!” he roared.

Seth moved away from Dawn and reached beneath his own cloak, drawing out scimitar. “How nice of you to join us Hunter, you’re a little lat though,” he mocked gesturing to Dawn.

Hunter roared wordlessly at the top of his voice as he did a flip over the altar to bring him into striking range of Seth. The two knights sent out their blades to meet each other causing a shower of sparks to fly like a fourth of July celebration. Hunter pressed his blade harder against Seth’s and the older fallen knight returned the pressure. The tow blades sparked a little as the slipped about maintaining the contact between them. Hunter pushed harder and Seth met his push with equal force. “What no pleasantries?” asked Seth mockingly as their eyes met and were transfixed.

Hunter kept his eyes locked on Seth’s. He suddenly took his left hand off the hilt of his longsword and chopped at Seth’s neck. But he saw it coming and was already ducking his head to the side to lessen the impact, while spinning out from the locked blades. As Seth spun, Hunter pressed forwards, arcing his weapon down to try to slice open Seth’s back.

His sword passed by Seth, missing his back but tearing the cloth of his cape. Seth continued his spin to bring his sword up and around in a blow that would have taken Hunters head off. But Hunter had seen it coming and ducked below the blade, feeling the passage of its passing as a breeze on his hair.

Hunter sent his blade up to meet Seth’s and pushed it further away, while using his free left hand to place a blow against the older mans stomach. Seth left out a small rush of air as he jumped back a few feet, a hand going to his belly in surprise.

“Impressive little one,” he mocked.

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises,” replied Hunter as he moved forwards again, his anger powering his assault of rapid sword movements that pushed Seth further away.

Spike had followed Hunter into the room and ran straight into the Nidavellir mages who seemed determined to leave. Spike obliged them by making them leave permanently. Some without heads, some with torn open torsos, all dead. He moved past the carnage he had wrought in the space of a few seconds and stopped dead. During his little skirmish, he had not had a chance to see what was happening over the other side of the room, but now he did, the sight brought him to a standstill. Hunter and Seth were locked in a battle to the death. The display of swordsmanship was remarkable. Each blow being met by a parry and sending arcs of sparks of light in the air that competed with the ghostly illumination of the flickering candles.

The two fighters were between him and Dawn who, he though for one terrible second, seemed lifeless as she hung from manacles attached to two pillars. He found himself moving forwards hefting the axe he had liberated earlier in the night. But as he approached the altar, a figure rose from behind it and placed his hands on the surface.

“Angel!” exclaimed Spike, coming to a shocked halt in his forward momentum.

“Spike,” replied Angelus nodding curtly. “Nice of you to join the party.”

“Angel, help me get Dawn,” said Spike as he moved closer to the altar.

Angelus stepped to the side to block Spike’s progress. In his hand, Spike saw a ceremonial dagger with a narrow silver blade and a pure black handle. “Now why would I want to do that?” asked Angelus.

“Angel?” said Spike for a moment. Then the memories of the events earlier that evening returned to him in a flood. He had been near unconsciousness and bleeding on the floor when Angel had his soul ripped from him. “Angelus?” he asked with a hint of anxiety in his voice.
“Glad you remember me!” he mocked. “Now, if you put down the axe and surrender, I’ll see what Seth can do about getting that little Government Issue chip out of your bleached skull. Then we can go hunting”

Spike froze as a smile rose up on his face. For nearly a year he had been all but impotent with the chip in his head. The prospect of chasing a living human through the streets of Sunnydale again made his mouth water. Could this Seth really do that? It was what he had wanted. All he had wanted for a long time now. But as he thought about joining a real hunt again, he realised that, recently, there was something that he had wanted more than the hunt. He had wanted Buffy. Now the slayer was dead, he could not have her, but he had made a promise. Hunter had reminded him of the promise when he had first arrived on scene, stopping Spike from bailing town to wallow in self-pity. Now Dawn meant more to him that tasting fresh blood again.

“No,” replied Spike softly.

“What was that Spike?” asked Angelus as he twirled the dagger round in his fingers.

“I can’t do that mate,” replied Spike more firmly.
Angelus looked momentarily taken aback at Spike’s declaration. “Why?”

“I made a promise to a girl I intend to keep…. even if it kills me,” he replied.

Angelus shifted to his demon form, his eyes turning to yellow, his nose wrinkling up and his fangs protruding.

Spike hefted his axe and moved forwards to meet his old sire. “Now this is going to be fun hey Spike,” mocked Angelus. “We haven’t had a good scrap since Greece.”

Spike said nothing as he attacked.

**********

Hunter leapt above a low cut that was supposed to take his legs out from under him. He threw his arms out wide to stabilize himself, taking his sword out of a defending position and leaving himself vulnerable to a quick strike by Seth. The older knight took the opportunity to deliver a punch to Hunter’s sternum, driving out the air from his lungs.

The force of the blow made Hunter loose the balance of his jump and he felt himself falling backwards. He sent out his thoughts as a telekinetic burst and he pushed off from the ground to turn his backwards fall into a summersault to land atop the altar in a crouch, his cloak pooling around him.

Seth laughed as he had forced Hunter to retreat. Then he held out his hand in Dawn’s direction. Hunter could felt eh power lance between the fallen knight and his love. His minds eye saw a river of green energy flowing out of Dawn’s chest, from over hr heart, to Seth’s arm where it crawled up it to his chest and sank in over his heart.

Hunter’s anger flared stronger than ever as he felt Dawn grow weaker from. He leapt towards Seth and the fallen knight was caught off guard and only just managed to get his blade up and around to block Hunter’s fierce onslaught.

Hunter rained blow after blow against Seth, who was forced inexorably backwards towards the rear wall.

Hunter let out a roar of rage that was more animal than human as he focused his power and drove it at Seth like a tidal wave.
The fallen knight staggered backwards under the assault and raised his own power to meet Hunters.
The wind in the hall rose to a roaring level and Hunter heard both Spike and Angelus get thrown around by it. Hunter redoubled his efforts; sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as the forces assaulting Seth grew.

Seth staggered under the assault as he took a second to gather his own powers. But once he did, his powers grew faster than Hunter’. For the briefest of seconds, Seth wondered that, if he had not gotten some of Dawn’s energy by now, if he would have been able to bet Hunter. The truth was he did not know.

But with Dawn’s energy on top of his own powers, he was more than a match for any one knight.

Seth laughed as he channelled more power than he ever though possible and threw it at Hunter.

Hunter did not stagger under the assault as Seth had done. Instead he was thrown clear across the room. Hunter reacted with the speed of a thought to divert some of the energy he had directed at Seth behind himself to act as a cushion. He only managed to build up a mental barrier in time, as he slammed back first into a stone column with enough force to pulverise it and send stone dust and chips showering out around him.
Hunter lay on the floor totally dazed. He could feel the cuts on his back and hands starting to bleed, the stone dust making them sting as it worked in.

He had lost the fight.

More importantly, he had lost Dawn.

Xander had amazed himself with his resilience. Here he was, just having lived through the most stressful and emotional period of his life so far, yet he could still fight on.

And fighting he was. Edmond was out in the lead of the group as they fought towards the rag tag human army that had stormed the fortress. Nidavellir who were, not surprisingly, trying to kill them surrounded them on all sides. But so far, whether by design, or chance, none of them had been seriously hurt in the push towards their potential allies.

But they were tiring. They had been on the run from Seth and his forces for a few days now, with little in the way of food or rest. It was taking its toll. But every time Xander thought about giving up, just laying his appropriated short sword down on the ground and sitting there to wait for death, he caught a sight of Anya to his side.

She was fighting tooth and nail besides him. She had never been very good at the physical stuff. Always preferring to use her unique charms of getting out of the worst of it. That or simply letting the normal fighters of the group do most of the work, looking for an opening to hit the latest nasty over the head with a bat or vase or something. But she had surprised everyone by picking up a dropped short sword and getting stuck into their enemies with avengance. Every now and then, Xander could hear her curse the diminutive grey demons for their woes. Despite the gravity of their predicament, it made him smile and love her even more.

Behind him, Willow and Tara were proving themselves more invaluable than normal. On their own, both had proven to be powerful witches. But together, they were awesome. They resonated power behind him as their magicks threw the demons away from them, clearing a path to the human army.

At the very rear, Giles and Wesley were using their combat knowledge gained from watcher training to safeguard the group’s backs. Fighting together in a fashion that would have made any army general proud. Each one covering the others exposed flanks and working in tandem as they slew their share of demons.

Suddenly, the number of Nidavellir that were aware of their presence increased, and more of the demons took their attention away from the threat of the human army, to a smaller, but worse threat of an attack coming from behind.

Edmond twirled his quarterstaff through a half circle across his body to block a low cut aimed at his calves, while bringing the other end of the pole down to knock the attacker unconscious and send him sprawling to the ground. He was relying more on his powers that he had at any other point in his life. Even during his training, he had been more concerned with the wisdom of when to act rather than how to act. He had been competent enough in his powers and abilities to overcome his challenges so far. But thinking too much in a situation of a battle was likely to get him killed. More importantly, it was likely to result in his wards getting killed. For although they were fighting better than he would have ever thought, they were not warriors. Plus they were still only mortal.

Edmond pressed forwards as a magical burst of energy from Willow and Tara sent a half dozen Nidavellir sprawling to the flagstone courtyard where they were set upon by members of the human army.

He was amazed that the two were still fighting on, despite their injuries. It showed their courage.

His line of thinking was interrupted, as he had to back step to avoid being gutted. He swung his quarterstaff round to knock the offending blade further away, then twirled it round to bring the end of the shaft down on the attackers head. The sound of the staff hitting metal pierced his ears, and he felt the vibrations as the force of the blow was depleted against the helmet. Backing off to face the next opponent, he caught sight of a massive dent in the helmet and winced in sympathy. It was nowhere near a fatal blow. But it had caused unconsciousness and would result in one hell of a headache.

Another sideswipe by a Nidavellir was countered by a telekinetic burst from Edmond, sending the smaller grey warrior flying over the heads of his fellows. Then, he sensed a change in the air.

Purple light pierced the night and ate into Edmond’s thigh. His leg gave out beneath him and he went to the ground faster than he could stop himself. He knew magick when he felt it.

Around him, other humans began to drop to the ground like flies. He heard Xander yell in pain, followed by Anya screaming his name. He fervently hoped Xander was all right.

But he knew that he could do little to help him right now. The enemy had outnumbered them to start with. Now, heavy hitters in the form of mages had been added to the mix. Although his magickal training was mainly limited to how to create portals and defence against the more common spells he would likely encounter, he was probably the only one that could deal with this new threat.

Ignoring the pain in his thigh, he pushed up from the ground and moved towards the epicentre of the strange purple light that cast eerie shadows in the night.

The fight went on.

The pain Hunter felt in his back was excruciating. Small lumps of masonry pricked his skin as he lay in the settling cloud of dust that stifled his laboured breathing. Somewhere nearby, he could hear Seth closing in. The older fallen knight's breathing was slightly elevated. Whether that was from the exertion of the power he had expended, or simply because of the excitement that Hunter could sense surrounding the man, he did not know.

Then, the dust finished settling around him and Hunter rolled onto his side. He could taste blood in his mouth and more pain caused him to arch his back as he moved.

He heard Seth laugh at his pain and it made him angry. But what could he do. Any second now, Seth’s blade would arc down and end his life. Hunter had lost his sword at some point after he had been hit with the torrent of energy. His only defence was his hands.

The footsteps stopped and Hunter closed his eyes, waiting for the end. The eternal night.

“Tell me Hunter, why are you risking your life for her?” asked Seth.

Hunter opened his eyes and looked at the booted feet of Seth standing twenty feet away. Surprise blossomed for a moment, but then he felt a cold wet blanket settle around him. Of course, in reality, there was no blanket. It was a mental barrier Seth had erected. Hunter went to reach for his powers, but the blanket stopped him.

Just behind Seth, Hunter could see Dawn, hanging limply in her chains, blood running from her neck, tears streaming from her eyes. He refused to give into the despair that he felt growing. So, with no other choice but to talk to Seth or keep quiet, he chose to talk. The longer he was alive, the better the chances of him thinking of something to do. “If I have to tell you, you would never understand,” he replied.

Seth tilted his head to the side in thought for a second and Hunter felt icy claws try to pry into his mind. He might not be able to send any power out, but he could still focus it inside himself so he focused his own energy and imagined applying heat to the tendrils of thought.

Seth jerked backwards at Hunters counter attack, and frowned. Then Hunter felt more power pour into his mind. The ice-cold fingers speared his brain and he felt like his body had frozen stiff. The sheer level of power was overwhelming. A power he knew he could not defeat. Despair began to reclaim Hunter as the probe continued to drag out his memories.

A smile spread across Seth’s face as he delved deeper. “You love her,” he said and he started to laugh.

Hunter set is teeth in a snarl and propped himself up on his hands, ignoring the pain in his back.

Seth stopped laughing and stared at Hunter. “It brings to mind a similar event that happened the last time I was on this god forsaken planet eleven years ago.”

Hunter froze. Eleven years ago Seth was on earth? Eleven years ago? An image of his parent funeral flashed before his mind. Surely not?

Seth smiled as he saw the recognition dawn on Hunters face. “You didn’t know did you?” he asked. “Did Merlin or the others never tell you how your parents died?”

Hunter snarled in anger. “Leave my parents out of this. They were everything that you were not!”

“Oh if that were only true,” said Seth as he began to circle Hunter. “You see your father came to join me. He wanted the powers that I had.”

“No, you’re lying!” said Hunter determinedly. But inside, he felt the small ball of fear that he had carried around ever since his parents death start to grow.

“I don’t need to lie. Your father was defecting to join me,” stated Seth, a manic smile at the deliciousness of the dark tones the conversation was taking on.

Hunter, desperate, sent out a mental probe to test the truth of his words. It butted up against the barrier around him and he almost gave up. But, then, Seth let part of the barrier down to let him see the memory play out in his mind. Hunter could see that the memory was real. There was no way it could have been faked.

His father and Seth were fighting side by side against other knights. His father was very much like Hunter was now. Tall with dark hair and pale skin. But instead of Hunter’s piercing multi-coloured blue eyes, his fathers were all one colour. A startling dark blue.

Hunter wanted to close his eyes against the image, but it played out in his mind. He had to see it through now. He had to see the truth. His father sent a knight falling to the ground with a fatal wound across his chest. Hunter could see the look of triumph on his fathers face as he cleaned the blood off the bastard sword he held. But the look quickly turned into something else.

The view shifted to focus on a woman. A beautiful woman with long, full chestnut hair down to her knees, and blue eyes a different colour to his fathers. His mother stood there in all her glory. Her black cape, trimmed with a white silk hem, framed her full figure. She was exactly as he remembered her. The black tights and the short pleated skirt, hem riding at mid thigh. The pale skin contrasting so wonderfully with the standard knight uniform.

His mother.

She had a look of emotional pain on her face as she drew a longsword that looked so much like his own it was uncanny.

He watched in horror as the memory moved forwards. The battle looked like a ballet as the husband and wife circled round each other exchanging strikes and parries. But the battle was quick, and ended with his father holding his mother in his arms as her life drained away from her body. But instead of the look of triumph on his father, it was a look of agony.

He had killed his wife.

He had killed his love.

His father bellowed in pain and got up to face Seth. But Seth, having watched the whole sequence of events was ready. As his father turned and got a grip on his sword, Seth stabbed his own blade straight through his chest, piercing his heart.

His father would die faster than his mother. He a look of surprise and regret on his face, but there was something else there. He saw his mother reach out and take his father’s hand as he fell besides her. As they held each other, he could feel the power rise between them.

Seth pulled the image away at that point and Hunter felt the tears sliding down his cheeks. He knew it was dangerous thing to do in the situation, but he closed his eyes to squeeze them away. As he did, a mental picture of his mother, standing before him after a hug to say goodbye, appeared. She was about to go away just as his father had done over a month ago.

“No,” he whispered shaking his head. “No….”

Seth smiled as he looked at a demoralised Hunter. “You see that you have darkness in your family. Give in to it and together we can rule the universe.”

All Hunter could do was cry and shake his head. Merlin had lied to him! He had asked how his parent had died, and he said they died honourably. His mother had done so. But what of his father? His father had died before he could make amends. Now he thought about it, the month before his parent’s deaths, his life had been characterised by many of the other people in his life looking at him and his mother with pity in their eyes.

Hunter kept his eyes closed to keep seeing the vision of his mother. Then, suddenly it talked to him.

“Stand strong my son. Your father may have lost his way, but he died sending Seth back where he had come from. He was redeemed in the end.” The voice was so soft, so full of love. It was just as Hunter had remembered it.

The image of his parents rose again, hand in hand, bleeding together on the soil of some foreign land. But this time, he got to see the power rise between them. It enveloped Seth in a swirling blue and pale green light. Then, as Seth screamed in pain and frustration, he disappeared.

“Join me and take your father’s place at my side,” said Seth

Hunter straightened his shoulder and opened his eyes. His parent had died as Knights. He called out to the powers that he could command and he rose to his feet. The mental barrier around him began to crumble as he got up. His cape swirled around him like it was in a roaring wind, despite the fact that the air in the room was still, pierced only by the sounds of Spike and Angelus fighting tooth and nail.

Seth’s jaw dropped in surprise. “How?” he asked.

Hunter raised his head from his chest and his power filled him as he swept away the last of the mental barrier that surrounded him.

“No,” said Seth. “No!”

Seth raised his right hand and opened it out with his palm facing Hunter. A ball of yellow energy flicked into existence and flew at Hunter. But Hunter didn’t even try to dodge the energy sphere. Instead, he focused his power and the bolt dissipated a foot in front of him.

Seth snarled and let loose several bolts one after another from the same hand. But all dissipated that same foot away.

Hunter felt the heat of the bolts against his skin and, for a moment, worried that he could not defeat Seth. But, as he looked at Seth, behind him, he could see Dawn. Hanging limply against the chains, blood running down her neck, from her nose, mouth and the corners of her eyes. But she was looking at him. Hope evident in those beautiful orbs.

Roaring with rage at Hunter’s defiance, Seth raised his other hand and bolts began to fly in such rapid succession from both, it seemed like a constant stream of yellow light ran from those hands.

Hunter stood firm against the assault of energy. Raising his arms to the side, he then pointed them forwards, his cloak mimicking his movements. His cloak had enshrouded his body as it moved to point forwards at the area where Seth’s bolts were aimed at.

The yellow energy hit the cloak and skittered along it like lightening. Each bolt causing the energy present to build.

Hunter smiled as he felt more power than he cold have believed possible rise in him. It was then that he realised that, while most of the power was his, a significant portion of it was coming from Dawn. He looked deeper into her eyes over Seth’s shoulder, and he knew. As weak as she now felt, her hope and love was feeding him energy, even if it was subconscious.

His heart swelled with love of his own, and the power grew to an even greater height.

*********

Spike slammed head first into Angelus’ chest, taking them both back to the ground. Spike could not remember then last time he had been hurt so badly. He was bleeding from his nose, mouth, one ear, and a multitude of cuts across his body. Angelus had sustained just as much damage as he had, but for some reason, it was healing much faster.

As Spike rolled onto Angelus’ chest and began to pummel the other vampire, Angelus started to laugh. That made Spike even angrier with him and he redoubled his efforts.

Suddenly, Angelus’ eyes glowed yellow and Spike found himself slowing his attack. His mid screamed at him to continue, even while a tiny voice told him to stop.

Angelus laughed again and threw a punch against Spike’s jaw as the attacks faltered. Spike went flying across the room to slam into the altar yet again, his head impacting first and sending the world dark around him. His last conscious thought was that he had failed Dawn and Buffy…. again.

**********

The power built to such a height that Hunter felt as though his physical body must be wreathed in it. But Seth kept up the torrent, sweeping the attack back and forth across Hunters cloaked body.

Then, just as Hunter felt he could not take any more power, he shifted the pattern of the energies around him with his mind. The yellow lightening skipping over his cloak changed to a blue colour and began to flow towards the point of the cloak that was directed at Seth.

The blue energy lanced out in a narrow beam that cut through Seth’s continued yellow energy stream, dissipating the energy across the chamber. Hunter’s blue beam hit Seth on his outstretched hands and travelled down his arms to his chest, causing the fallen knight to fly backwards across the room to impact on the stone pillar that held one of the manacles attached to Dawn.

Seth slid down the pillar and ended up in a crouch at the base. He gathered more power around himself and drew his sword.

Hunter reached out his right hand to the side and his own blade sailed through the air to settle neatly in his palm. As he closed his fingers on the hilt, Hunter shifted his position. His left foot went forwards, his left hand splayed out besides him, while he pointed the sword at the ground in front of himself. The enchanted blade struck sparks as it touched the stone and Hunter traced a half circle, striking more sparks as the blade carved the stone.

He and Seth locked gazes and both men froze for a moment. Then, never taking their eyes of each other, they charged. Hunter ran with his blade down and to his side, while Seth held his forwards. They both knew that they were locked into a battle to the death now. No more pauses to taunt each other. Just an all out free for all till the other was dead.

As the two reached striking distance, Seth swept his blade down and across to hack at Hunter’s torso. Hunter stepped nimbly to the side as the blade sliced across his path, missing him by a hair’s breadth. His own sword came up and around to swipe across Seth’s back and drew a line across the dark knights cape as he moved out of the way of the strike.

The two turned to face each other and locked blades, striking a rainbow of sparks from the friction between the enchanted weapons.

Hunter backed off first as Seth’s free hand whipped out with a dagger. Hunter took his free left hand and drew his own in a blur of speed. The two daggers locked mid way between them.

Hunter backed off again and flipped his dagger round in his palm so that the blade rested against his forearm and his index and middle fingers were either side of the hilt.

Hunter set himself to prepare for the next onslaught, and, despite the gravity of the situation, could not help a smile forming on his lips. “Time to dance Seth,” he mocked as he waggled his blade through an infinity arc.

“You will die like you parents knight,” Seth snarled.

“That may be,” he replied calmly, “but you will never see another Dawn.” Hunter’s smile widened at the irony in his statement, and he felt himself calm down.

Seth on the other hand took the comment personally and charged forwards with a war cry.

Hunter stayed still for a second, and then he too rushed forwards to meet his destiny.

Swords clashed sending out sparks and the sound of metal on metal. Each blow that Hunter parried or struck at Seth was of such force, it felt like his arm was being pulverised.

Both warriors were covered in sheen of sweat as they continued the deadly dance, looking for openings in each other’s defences. The rest of the room was out of focus for Hunter. All his power and concentration was focused on the dark hearted individual opposing him.

A fraction of his mind marvelled at the power he felt coursing through his body. He had always been told he was powerful. He had always wondered if others saw something in him that did not exist. Now he knew that they had all been telling the truth.

But of course, not all of it was his. Somehow he was drawing strength from Dawn.

No, he mentally corrected himself. She was giving it to him.

Even though Seth stole her powers with ancient dark magicks, even though she was wounded and barely conscious, she was giving him strength.

Seth’s scimitar passed Hunter’s head as he leant back, his eyes tracing the progress of the steel as it flew perilously close to his face. In under a second, Hunter’s own sword was up and behind Seth’s pushing it further away while his left hand, still holding the dagger in a reverse grip, leapt out and slammed the hilt into Seth’s jaw.

Seth snapped his head away from the blow and took a short leap back while giving Hunter a telekinetic shove backwards.
Hunter allowed himself to move back with the blow, taking a short leap backwards to give him self more space to set up for the next furious exchange.

But as Hunter stepped forwards again, Seth took an equal step backwards. One hand went to his mouth where it came back bloodied. Hunter allowed a slight look of triumph to flit across his face before he shunted it aside. Once again, his youthful face was set in grim determination.

To Hunter’s surprise, Seth only smiled back at him as he took another step back. It was the smile that made Hunter suddenly more cautious.

Seth moved in a blur of motion and Hunter took an instinctive step backwards to give him more time to counter the attack he expected. But, to his surprise, and horror, Seth did not attack him. Instead, the fallen knight changed direction and moved towards Dawn.

Hunter froze for a fraction of a second in astonishment. But, as his gaze took in Seth moving towards Dawn, her eyes going wide at his approach, Hunter shot forwards to try for an intercept, a bare two seconds.

As Seth neared Dawn, he reached out his free hand and it landed over her heart. Through Hunter’s link with Dawn, he felt the energy surge from her and into Seth. Sheer agony pierced his body; feeling what she was feeling.

The pain he felt made him stumble and loose another second in catching up with Seth.
As Hunter arced his sword around at Seth’s exposed back, the fallen knight was suddenly facing him. Hunter never even saw him move.

Their blades met again and more sparks flew, lighting up the recesses of their hoods. The two warriors re-entered their deadly dance, blades locking, slashing and parrying so fast that they looked blurred, like the blades on a propeller. But Seth was driving Hunter back away from Dawn. Which was fine by him. If he could help it, no one but himself would ever touch her again.

As Hunter backed away, his peripheral sense detected that he was nearing the wall. If Seth cornered him there, he would be unable to manoeuvre his own weapon, and would become trapped.

He was running out of options, but still Seth pushed him back, the furious sword play only seeming to get faster and faster. Hunter gave up trying to assault, and simply concentrated on his defence. It was all he could manage.

As the outside wall got nearer, Hunter became more desperate to go on the offensive. As Seth sent his blade out a little wide, Hunter made a slash at Seth’s midsection with his longsword. The fallen knight deflected the attack by sending it down and to the side, where Hunter’s blade ate into the stone floor with a shower of sparks.

Seth’s elbow found his chest. As the air was forced out of his lungs he tried to alter the grip he had on the dagger in his left hand. The blade was partway through a turn so he could stab Seth when Hunter realised his mistake.

He had left himself open.

And it would cost him dearly.

**********
Edmond took the stairs to the top of the keep three at a time. He was breathing hard, his body aching from the exertion he was putting it through, and the plethora of minor cuts and bruises that he did not have the time or energy to heal.

He could feel the massive amounts of energy that were flying about in the chamber above him.

He knew that Seth was growing in power. Could feel it in the air. Could taste it at the back of his throat like bile.

He pushed himself harder, desperate to reach Hunter and Dawn in time to help them.

**********

Seth pushed harder, adding telekinetic power to the shove even as the dagger in Hunter’s hand was finally ready to stab out.

The elbow pushed against his solar plexus, while one of Seth’s legs had found its way behind Hunter’s ankles.

Hunter fell backwards, his arms instinctively going out to the sides and behind him to control the fall. Before he could overcome this instinct that nature had built into his body, Seth had bought his scimitar to bear.

The world slowed down and sound faded away till all Hunter could hear was the sound of the scimitar falling through the air, and the thudding of his own heart.

The tip of the enchanted steel found its mark and pierced his skin just below his ribcage. Seth pushed the blade in further, speeding Hunter’s fall to the floor. He was surprised at how little it hurt as he felt the metal dig deeper into his body. But he could not keep that surprise from his face. He could feel every inch of progress though his torso. But the pain did blossom as the blade stabbed out his back just before he hit the stone.

As Hunter came to rest on the stone, the part of the blade sticking out his back was forced back through him. As he watched the steel come out, it appeared lacquered in red. His blood stained the metal.

From the wound numbness began to spread. It was following a line of warm wetness that seeped across his back and stomach.

The world sped up again at the rising of Dawn screaming his name.

Seth loomed over him and smiled.

“I have won. You are going to die Hunter,” he sneered. “But before you do, you will see me take the last of the key’s energy into myself. You will see her become a soulless husk.”

“NO!” screamed Edmond as he froze in the demolished doorway. The other knight’s gaze flicked from Dawn; chained, bleeding and crying, to Hunter; impaled on a scimitar and lying prone on the floor.

Seth growled low in his throat as he turned to face this new threat. “Do not get involved in this boy!”

Edmond’s face showed a mix of anger, frustration and despair as he clutched his quarterstaff. “You will not harm anyone else Seth.”

Seth smiled. “And who is going to stop me?” he asked mockingly. “You? Hunter is five time your power and I have defeated him!” he said, voice rising as though he were confirming his triumph. “What do you think you can do that he couldn’t?”

Edmond said nothing as he twirled his quarterstaff through a series of loops while moving forwards to engage Seth.

Seth did not move, just stared at Edmond disapprovingly.

Edmond closed the gap faster.

Then, Seth reached out with his hand and splayed out his fingers. Lightening erupted from his fingertips at Edmond and cascaded over the young knights body. The power rising up his arms and dancing inside his head.

Edmond collapsed to the ground feeling like someone had cooked his brain. His enchanted living cloak shrivelling up around him.

As Hunter’s head lolled to the side, his eyes came to lock gaze with Dawn’s even as he heard Edmond scream. He noticed that more tears streamed down her cheeks. He could sense her feelings for him. Sensed that she loved him. Deeply.

Edmond screamed as the energy Seth threw at him burned his body felt like it was from the inside out, smoke rising from under his clothes.

Then, suddenly as the torrent of energy had gone.

But, on Seth’s face, the look of victory had been replaced by a look of horror and surprise.

Edmond tilted his head, painfully, and looked at the glint of metal poking out his chest, and watched as blood leaked from the wound.

Seth staggered backwards and Edmond saw Hunter, leaning heavily on the altar, one bloodied arm held against the wound in his stomach, still with one arm outstretched after throwing the blade that had impaled him.

“No,” whispered Seth. “No,” he repeated louder as he sank to his knees. “What have you done to me?”

Hunter sagged against the altar even more. “I have defeated you,” he rasped.

“No,” repeated Seth shaking his head in disbelief. “I had won, I had won.”

“Go to hell Seth,” it out Edmond as he rolled onto his side to stare at the dying fallen knight.

Seth looked down at his hands, now covered in his own blood. The fallen knights anger seemed almost palpable in the air. “I will not go alone,” he raged. “If I can’t have Dawn or her powers…. NO ONE WILL!” he screamed.

Time seemed to slow down again as Seth reached out a hand towards Dawn.

Hunter felt Seth’s tainted soul slip from the decimated and dying body. But the void it left was filled by something even darker.

Hunter surged forwards, but he was moving too slow. His hand reached out towards his fallen longsword. The blade vibrated as it was gripped by his mind, then began to fly across the room towards Seth, seemingly directed by Hunter’s outstretched hand.

But time was still slow and the darkness that filled Seth reached out to Dawn.

Hunter saw her eyes go impossibly wide. Then, she straightened up, then arched her back and screamed.

Hunter’s sword flew on. Hunter ran on.

Dawn began to fit as the darkness that had filled Seth’s body dragged on her soul. Dragging it down to hell. Blood filled her mouth and sprayed out with every painful breath. She could feel more blood running from her nose and her ears. The pain was beyond belief.

Hunter’s sword flew on. Hunter ran on.

Edmond had surged to his feet, angling towards Seth with his quarterstaff. The enchanted metal re-formed in his grip to change the blunt end into a point. But as he ran, he could see Dawn crying tears of blood. Could hear her scream through his ears and through his own soul.

Hunter’s sword stabbed through Seth’s back and into his heart at the same time that Edmond’s quarterstaff’s now sharp end stabbed into the heart from the front.

The points of the two weapons met in the middle of the organ, and, as they touched let out their enchanted energy in a wash that tore Seth’s body apart.

Hunter slid to a stop by Dawn, his enchanted dagger cutting through the chains that held her up like they were made of butter.

He grabbed hold of her and together they sank to the stone floor.

Hunter cradled her head in his lap as she looked up at him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her.

Dawn smiled up at Hunter. Her knight. “I love you,” she whispered back around a small smile that leaked more blood from the corner of her mouth.

Hunter’s tears began to make lines down her cheeks as he wept. He could sense the damage done to her body and knew that, even as he poured what energy he had left, it was not enough.

She was dying.

There was nothing he could do.

Nothing.

He wanted to say so much. He had began to dream of a life he could have built with her. Together they could have had something so special. Now…. now his hopes, dreams and love collapsed in around him.

Hunter bent his head closer and pressed his lips against hers.

The touch was feather light, but full of energy, love and passion.

It was Hunter’s first kiss.

It was Dawn’s first, and last.

He could taste her blood on his tongue as he gently stroked her hair. His energy, now joined by Edmond’s barely even slowing the torrent of her life pouring out her broken body.

“Hold me…. don’t leave me….” she whispered, the last word stretching out as she let out her last breath.

Hunter shook his head and the world was blurred through his tears. “No,” he rasped.

“Hunter?” asked Edmond, his voice heavy with emotion.

Hunter raised his eyes to the visage of sky he could see through the shattered east wall of the room. Just visible on the horizon was a sliver of light. The sun was rising.

It was a Dawn.

He let out all his emotions in one long scream that echoed audible and through the forces of life he used as his power.

Edmond flinched at the sound and sensation.

Below the keep, Atrimus glanced up at the keep looming overhead. As did all the Humans and demons around him.

Every person in that reality heard that scream of pain, rage and loss.

The air shimmered outside the magick shop causing the glass to rattle in the pane. Inside, objects on shelves began to vibrate and drew the attention of the group who sat huddled around the table by the bookshelves.

Xander rose from his chair, causing Anya, who had been sitting on his lap in a tight embrace to rise as well.

The group all stared at the window with haggard looks on their faces. They were physically beat up and emotionally drained.

Xander moved sluggishly away from them before suddenly going ridged as he stared out the window. In under a heartbeat, he was dashing towards the front door and throwing it open. The others, defeated as they might feel all flew away from the table to join him.

What met their eyes as they exited the front door was a nightmare.

A portal, like the one that had returned them involuntarily to Sunnydale had opened in the street. From within the swirling depths, misshapen shadows loomed.
The first resolved itself into Spike and Angel. Angel staggered as he exited the portal, his hands and legs bound with heavy manacles. Tears were streaming down the vampires face as he fell to his knees. Spike, holding the end of the chain like a dog leash, also had a look that hinted at deep pain. He was trembling slightly, and only flinched slightly at the rising sun as it began to make long shadows down the streets of the town where the days were sunny and the nights deadly.

As one, they turned their attention back to the portal as it ejected Edmond. The knight looked different. Harder. As though the experiences he had been through over the past days had aged him.

But, the last figure to emerge was Hunter.

In his arms hung the limp form of Dawn summers.

Willow let out a scream of emotional turmoil and sank to the ground weeping, Tara following her lover down where they sat. Willow hunched over not looking at the image before her, and Tara holding her so tight that it would probably leave a bruise.

Giles too let out a moan and leaned against the lamppost outside his shop. It was the only thing holding him up.

Xander stood stock still, staring at the body of his friend’s sister. Rage and loss vying for pole position in his soul while Anya clung to him like he was the only real thing left in the world.

Hunter’s gaze roamed over the group before him and he was lost for words. Grief and pain had consumed him and he had blasted apart the fortress in a rage.

But he had a plan.

He was desperate to get Dawn back.

He knew what he had to do.

He walked up to Giles and held out his loves body to the watcher. Giles looked down at her blankly for a moment, then reached out and took her. He held her close as he now sank to the pavement, his tears beginning to flow. Willow crawled over the few feet between herself and Giles and grasped a hold of Dawn’s limp hand, taking it to her cheek and holding it there. Tara followed and held onto Willow while Xander and Anya closed in as well.

Edmond, Spike, Angel and Wesley looked on in pity. Wordless.

Hunter looked over the faces before him as he contemplated what he was about to do. But what else could he do? He asked himself.

The answer was nothing.
He stretched out with his mind and drew on his powers to tear apart the fabric of reality and create a vortex of his own. Before stepping through it, hearing his name echo behind him called by Edmond.

Hunter stepped out of his vortex in Los Angeles. He had never been here personally, but the information he had pulled out of Angels mind meant he knew the area.

It was the main post office for LA.

Beneath it was his objective. A gateway to the Powers That Be.

As he entered the hidden passage that took him under the foundations of the impressive building above, he focused on his objective.

Nothing less than success.

At the bottom, in a natural stone cavern, stood a bricked up archway with a small font before it.

He did not perform the simple ceremony that Angel had seen his now dead companion Doyle performed. Instead, he again called out to his powers and sent them pummelling against the filled in archway.

The stones glowed and faded from reality and left him with a portal to another plane of existence.

Fearless he stepped through.

On the other side, he found himself in a white void.

The ground below his feet was not visibly to him. But it felt solid to his booted feet.

“Why are you here knight?” asked an ethereal voice in the mists that surrounded him.

Hunter felt his mood darken. He was in the presence of the powers and they had decided not to reveal themselves to him.

He stretched out with his mind again. This time, he focused on the mists. With one effort, he swept them away like a wind taking away the dusted remains of a vampire.
Standing around him in a circle were twenty beings. They looked like statues of ancient Greek and Roman gods come to life. Hunter knew that many of those gods were indeed based upon the powers. He also knew that the powers had created oracles in their image that had inhabited the original realm beneath the post office. He also knew how a warrior from hell had killed those oracles.

“I have come to seek justice,” Hunter said to the Powers.

“He has swept away our ether,” said one.

“How dare he!” insisted another.
One of the Powers who looked like a female goddess stepped forwards. “He is in pain,” she stated.

One of the male Powers from the opposite side of the circle to the female also stepped forwards. “He should be punished for this intrusion.”

“Why are you here knight? What justice do you seek from us?” asked the female who had spoken of his pain.

“I seek justice for Dawn Summers,” Hunter stated.

A murmur ran around the circle.

“You are the one called Hunter.” It was not a question. “Merlin has spoken a great deal about you.”

Hunter ground his teeth together. “I don’t care. All I care about is you returning her to life.”

Another murmur ran round the circle.

“Why would we do that?” asked a different one who was behind Hunter.

“We have safely trapped the essence of the key here with us. It can no longer be abused by you mortals.”

Hunter fumed. “You planned that from the beginning didn’t you!” he accused. “You wanted Dawn to die so you could get her power.”

The male that stood near him smiled. “It was a great plan. Removing the key from the world when all others thought it destroyed.”

Hunter turned on the Power and placed a finger near the beings face. “How dare you…”

The Power glared at Hunter. “No,” he overrode, “how dare you! Coming before us and demanding something that is beyond you.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide with anger and he felt his tenuous control slipping. “You planned her death from the moment she became human,” he said with anger in his voice. “You call yourself good? You disgust me!”

“Why would you have us return her to life?” asked the female near him.

“It matters not,” broke in the male. “We have the essence of the key here, and there is nothing this mortal can do about it.”

Hunter roared with rage and drew his longsword. The Power looked at him in disbelief as the enchanted blade arched up and around, cleanly slicing through the neck.
The male Power’s head rolled to the floor and the body fell down beside it. Then, the body collapsed in on itself, releasing a white vapour that ignited and burnt.

The other Powers' all moved back from him except the female. “You know what you have done?” she asked.

Hunter nodded. “I know you and your secrets. I know how I can sever your connection to Earth.”

The female nodded. “Then you also know that, in a few hundred years, he will find his way back to us.”

Hunter did not respond. He just held his sword before him, senses alert for any possible counter attack by the powers.

“Why?” she asked.

“I know that you can send me back in time to rescue her.”

The Powers murmured again.

“Why should we do this for you?” one demanded.

Hunter turned to face him, sword held in a threatening guard position. “Because if you don’t, you will all follow your friend from this realm,” Hunter replied with a threatening tone.

“If you did that, there would be no one to oppose the Dark Ones on Earth,” replied the female Power nearest him. “Are you willing to risk your world for the key?”
Hunter turned on her, tears streaming down his face. “She was human!” he yelled at her. “You killed her when she was so full of life.”

The female nodded and looked on him pitifully. “You loved her?”

Hunter closed his eyes and nodded. Unable to speak past the raw emotion lodged in his throat.

“If we did what you say,” she began, “there would have to be consequences.”

Hunter looked at her as the murmurs of the other powers grew. Some calling out that the key should remain with them, others insisting that Hunter die for what he had done.

“I don’t care,” Hunter replied.

The female power nodded. “Then this is what you will do. We will send you back to a time and place where you can stop recent events from happening.”

Hunter’s heart skipped a beat in hope.
“But. If you are successful in your rescue, then she must never have any contact with you. Ever.”

Hunter looked at the Power before him, dumbfounded. “Ever?” he asked shakily.

The power nodded. “You can slay us all, but this is all we offer. She will still be alive, but she must never have any contact with you! She will be in the world, but removed from your life.”

Hunter shook his head. What the powers were offering him was a life without Dawn.

But she would still be alive.

So many emotions ran through his mind. But in the end, there was only one answer.

A world without Dawn was worse than his life without her.

He nodded in agreement and the white around him faded away.

Hunter felt himself falling as the white faded. The sensation made him sick to his stomach and he as surprised he managed to hold onto his last meal.

It was then he realised that he had not eaten properly for days.

The darkness that had replaced the white resolved itself back to reality. Hunter found himself face down on the sidewalk.

Picking himself up, he surveyed his surroundings and nearly groaned in despair.

He was back in Sunnydale.

It was then that he heard it.

Lightening crackled across the sky not far away, and Hunter could feel the fabric of the world folding and tearing.

He had been sent back in time.

And know he knew where.

Turning he ran full out down the street. The chilly night air rushed by him and caused his cloak to billow out behind him like a fluttering shadow as he pushed himself on.

Rounding a corner, the stretch of corrugates metal fencing that hid the lower reaches of a monstrous construction from view loomed before him.

He skidded to a halt in the only break in the fencing and surveyed the scene of chaos before him.

Spike was lying unconscious on the ground. Xander, Giles, Willow, Anya and Tara were fighting the last of Glory’s demon followers, while on the skeletal tower stretching up to the night, Buffy and Dawn stood on the catwalk that hung over the opening portal.

Hunter’s gaze locked upon Dawn as the two sisters looked at the opening dimensional rift. Could he save the slayer and save Dawn the world of hurt that would follow her sister’s death?

“It is not your place to change that event.”

Hunter turned and saw that one of the powers had materialised next to him and stood watching the events unfold. It was the female power that had given him his chance.

Hunter knew that to argue the point was fruitless. He was here to save Dawn only. He knew that the slayer would be back. It had been written into prophecy back when the human world was young. Nothing could change that fact. Buffy would be back.

But if he could not save Dawn, she would become the property of the Powers, never to see the earth again.

So he turned back his attention to the scene, just in time to see Buffy fall from where she was held in the shimmering light of the portal to the ground.

He knew she was dead before she even hit the ground. Her life essence had been torn from her body and used to close the tear in the fabric of reality.

It was then that Hunter senses the presence he instinctively knew he was after.

In the original timeline, he had stood on this very spot, and noticed another person across the building site. At the time, he had thought the person was just a human. But e knew better now.

He stepped forwards from his shelter and ran across the building site. He knew that the entire Scooby gang would not see him. Their attention was too drawn by the body of their friend lying dead on a pile of rubble.

The figure he was approaching looked up at him. A blood red cape and the glint of metal over a shoulder confirmed his suspicions.

The person was Morgan.

Hunter threw a telekinetic burst at the trainee knight, sending her flying backwards to his the wall of the neighbouring building with enough force to shatter some of the exterior rendering.

Morgan slowly regained her feet as Hunter continued to run towards her. But she did not stand and fight as he had expected.

Instead, sparing one frightened glance in his direction, she turned and ran into the night.
Hunter ran after her, slowing only briefly when he heard Dawn scream out Buffy’s name.

A single tear slid down his cheek.

Morgan ran five blocks and burst through a doorway to a long abandoned factory.

Hunter followed close behind.

As he burst into the darkness offered up from the shelter the thick walls provided from the rising sun and streetlights outside, Hunter slowed his pace.

The outer door had led him into a kind of reception room. An old wooden desk ran across the back of the wall, behind which was an open doorway. Hunter could see the door was hanging partly off its hinges. But what drew his attention more was that the door was moving, yet there was no wind.

Morgan had gone through.

Hunter followed and found him self standing upon a metal gantry that ran over a lowered factory floor.

Filling the floor was a small army of vampires, Nidavellir and Demon lords. At the far end, on a raised concrete dais, stood Seth and his main demon ally.

They were holding a rally. Hunter could hear Seth’s voice telling the gathered followers about all the power and wealth that he would give them after he got the key.

Morgan was trying to force her way through the crowd to the dais. But, the crowd was so attentive to Seth that they did not notice her attempts to get past them.

Hunter sank inside himself and prepared for what he was about to do.

Seth lowered his hands as a cheer went up through the crowd of followers he had assembled. He could feel the solid floor beneath his feet tremble at the noise. This was the nucleus of his army. The force that he would set upon the world before his main army came and conquered the globe.

All he needed was a leader, and the dark ones had told him whom to find. Shortly, he would make his way to the city of Los Angeles and seek out the vampire with a soul called Angel.

He noticed his knight in training trying to force her way through the crowd and he frowned. Surely she had not completed her duty so soon?

Suddenly, from above, a massive girder dropped with amazing speed and landed in the crowd. The startled gasp that erupted through the crowd was almost lost on him as he felt Morgan’s scream in his head.
The falling metal had crushed her.

Seth looked on dumbfounded as the crowd left an oasis free from demons around the rapidly expanding mass of blood that was running from his apprentice.

Then he saw something else drop from above and he feared that the noise his followers had made had started the old factory collapsing.

But, as another cry went up from where the latest object fell, Seth knew it was different.

The demons nearest were trying to get closer to the falling object, and Seth could hear the screams as his followers died.

Then, the crowd broke.

Hunter had dropped from the gantry after the heavy girder he had torn from the ceiling and thrown at Morgan.

Now, his sword flashed out around him, decapitating a half a dozen vampires before they even knew what had hit them.

A Nidavellir had started to draw an axe from a sheath on it’s back when Hunter’s sword split its torso open from shoulder to shoulder and spilled its heart and lungs onto the cracked concrete floor.

His mind lashed out and snapped the neck of a Polgarra demon as it moved towards him.

He was surrounded. But every move he made killed another of Seth’s followers. He had turned himself into a living weapon. He had become his name.

He was a true Hunter amongst the animals.

Seth saw a black cape and the flash of metal and he knew instantly that a knight had found his meeting.

He did not know how. But he had been discovered.

Closing his eyes, he stretched out with his mind to seek the presence of other knights. But his mind found only one.

He smiled. One knight was a problem. But only a minor one. He had killed dozens of them in the past. Another made no difference.

But as he mentally probed the knight that was slicing his way so effectively through the massed demons below, his heart sank.

Whoever this knight was, he was amazingly powerful. But, what was worse in his mind, the powers that were in use were tinged with darkness. Not of evil like his, but of desperation and hatred.

Seth somehow knew that he was the object of that hatred, and he feared it.

Hunter had turned into a killing machine. His right hand held his longsword as it slew demon after demon, while his left hand lashed out punching and chopping at exposed necks and stretched out limbs, breaking anything it came into contact with.

Suddenly, a shape loomed out of the crowd at him. It was Seth’s demon ally.

Hunter returned his sword to a guard poise for a fraction of a second before lashing out at the creature before him.

The demon lord had drawn his massive broadsword and used it to parry Hunter’s initial attack. A vampire grabbed a hold of Hunter’s arm as he used it to balance he failed attack on the demon lord. Hunter pulled with all his strength and the vampire holding him went down to his knees.

Hunter took a slight step towards the downed enemy and twisted his arm free from the grasp that held it. His arm now free, he slid it round the vampire’s neck and twisted.

The grip he had on the head of the vampire, combined with the leverage of his body caused the vampires spine to snap. The sound of cartilage tearing was almost drowned out by the vampire’s scream of pain. Almost.

Hunter let the vampire drop to the ground. He was not dead. He would even heal eventually. But he was out of the fight.

Hunter swung his longsword round to meet the broadsword of the demon lord who had taken advantage of his distraction to move round behind him.

Hunter did a back flip and landed in front of another Polgarra. Snarling with rage and filled with power, Hunter sent his free hand out with such force that his punch smashed through the demons skin. Hunter felt the rough edges of the Polgarra’s spine meet his knuckles. Spreading his had inside the demon, Hunter grasped the spinal column and pulled.

Before he knew it, he was throwing the detached spinal cord to the ground, after pulling it clean out the demons body.

The bone and flesh landed on the bloodied concrete floor with a quiet squelch that Hunter never heard as he skewered a vampire through the stomach before dragging the blade out to the side, tearing a massive hole in his latest victims abdomen.

Hunter leaned forwards while his right leg went out behind him to catch the demon lord on his knee.

The pressure Hunter applied to the joint forced it in a direction it was not supposed to go in, and it snapped with a horrendous sound that echoed over the cries of the wounded and angry demons that were trying to close on Hunter.

Pivoting on his left foot, Hunter swung the sword round and it scraped across the ground in a circle, lopping the demon lord’s head off and releasing black blood to mix with the red and green that was already flowing across the floor.

Hunter drew on more of his powers and sent tendrils of that energy he tapped out to meet the demons out of reach of his sword.

Lightning flared from his body and exploded anything it contacted.

Blood and body parts from dozens of different demons began to fly through the air like some unbelievable horror movie.

Even the humans who had allied themselves with Seth were not immune to Hunter’s wrath and fell to the ground dead.

Seth felt the mass of energy sweep over his followers and he saw them start to fall like dominoes from the area where the knight fought.

It was like some bizarre dance. As the lightening spread out in a circle, his followers fell to the ground dead. Most having had their heads and torsos exploded out across the ground.

Seth looked on fearfully as the energy reached him and caressed his leg.

The pain was overwhelming and the world began to fade.

Hunter felt the darkness inside him start to consume his soul and he did not care. He gave himself more fully to the power he could wield and the energy he gave off intensified till it rippled out across the entire floor of the factory. The last few demons that were trying to escape up pipes attached to the walls were tickled with the crackling blue energy and they too exploded, throwing more mess over the floor.

Hunter let the energy subside and he turned to look at Seth.

The fallen knight had not been immune to Hunters power. His right leg had shattered below the knee, causing Seth to be kneeling on the ground. Barely conscious.

Hunter stalked forwards, more dark energy rippling across his body.

Seth looked up fearfully at the bringer of his doom. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice sounding small and tinged with the pain in his destroyed leg.

“I am your death,” replied Hunter. More energy lanced out of Hunter's outstretched hand and caressed Seth’s head.

The fallen knights eyes exploded outwards spraying Hunter with heavy clear fluid.
As the energy built, Seth’s blood began to boil and his skin burn.

Then, Hunter sent a massive jolt of his burning anger into Seth’s body and it exploded outwards in a shower of burning body parts.

Hunter flinched as Seth’s flaming heart slammed into his chest.

But the heart fell away and Hunter stood alone in the factory.

He slowly turned in a circle and looked about.

It was then that his power finally ebbed away and left him feeling hollow. Empty.

“Are you happy now?”

Hunter did not need to look to the side to know that the female power was standing at his side. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the remains of a human woman he had killed. Her body was all but gone below the waist, all that remained were exploded bloodied stumps that used to be legs. Her face was strangely untouched. Frozen forever into a look of shock, pain and death.

“Yes, she was human. She had made a bad choice, now you have punished her for it,” said the power matter-of-factly.

Hunter did not answer the power as tears began to slide down his blood-covered cheeks.

He had become Seth. For just a moment, he had become the evil that had had sworn to oppose.

The result horrified him

He had seen carnage before. Had even caused some of it when he had been responsible for decimating the Nidavellir army.

The female power stepped forwards. Hunter looked down at the ground and saw that the pure white dress she wore was soaking up the blood on the ground. “But that was different wasn’t it?” she asked. “Killing that army was in defence of the humans.”

Hunter nodded. Here, there was no defence. Only attack. Not even that really. Just a slaughter. He had slaughtered Seth and his followers. He had not offered them a chance to be redeemed. He had killed them all.

Hunter staggered backwards as he openly wept. He had done this to save Dawn. In the hope that, at some time in the future, the Powers would allow him and her to be together.

But he had done something that was unforgivable. She would not want his now.

His back encounter one of the massive columns that held up the gantry overhead and he slid to the ground.

He was sitting amongst the carnage he had caused.

And he cried.

Edmond fell through the white and into darkness till he hit something solid. He realised after a second that his cheek had been grazed by the small loose stones that were on a sidewalk.

Pushing up from is prone position on the street, he looked up to the east where the sun was rising for a new day. The landscape about him was familiar, but it took a moment to place it. The industrial district of Sunnydale.

It was then that he knew the Powers had sent him to the right place. But what about the right time?

After Hunter had brought Dawn’s body back to Sunnydale, he had disappeared. Despite Edmond’s best efforts, he had been unable to divine his fellow knights location. So, he had swallowed what little pride he had, and had contacted Merlin. The old wizard had told him that Hunter was meeting with the Powers.

Edmond had broken off contact with Merlin and pondered the new information. Was Hunter bargaining for them to bring her back to life? Edmond had learnt of Hunter’s suspicions that the Powers and Merlin had arranged recent events to kill Dawn, so that her essence would be transferred to the realm where the Power resided. The idea was to remove the key from earth once and for all, safeguarding reality from more dimensional breaches like the one the hell god Glory had caused.

Edmond was not overly concerned. He had more important things to do right then. Like ensuring that Angel did indeed have his soul back. So he had entered the vampire’s mind and searched for the truth. It was there that Edmond found something that truly disturbed him. He had seen that, at some point in the past, Angel had begged the Oracles of the Powers to allow him to alter time so he could fight alongside Buffy in the coming Apocalypses.

Edmond had returned from the mental probe of Angel and immediately set out to seek the Powers.

He had gone, via portal, to the main post office in LA. He had discovered the portal to the realm where the Powers existed had been breached by force, and he had entered.

Within, he had discovered just how close to the edge Hunter had really gone. He had learnt about Hunter slaying a Power, and his trip back in time. Edmond was horrified that Merlin and the Powers had conspired to have Dawn die. But he also knew that, as long as she was alive, pain and disaster would be her companion. She was the key. Just because she was now Human did not mean that the unsavoury elements that had sought her before her transformation would stop.

Even though, Hunter trying to change what had already happened was…. well wrong. He could understand it. He had sensed the feelings the knight had for Dawn. He had kept that knowledge to himself so as not to put his comrade in an awkward spot. But changing history?

Edmond stretched out with his senses to try to locate Hunter. He did not have to look far.

He could feel a tide of energy that tasted like pure desperation and despair had swept over the ground recently. He turned in a new direction, his senses following the feeling like a dog following a scent. He turned and ran towards the open door of a nearby abandoned factory, following the trail, and launching into the darkness behind an open door with little hesitation.

He found himself running into a small reception like area, and then vaulting over the dust covered wooden desk and through another door.

What he saw made him freeze.

He was standing on a metal catwalk over a large lowered factory floor. He was thirty feet up, and despite the breeze now blowing through the door behind him, could smell the stench of death. The scene looked like someone had taken a blender to a room full of people. Bloodied shredded limbs were everywhere. Most of the torn ends of flesh were burnt black. Spots on the crumbling, grey concrete walls were also burnt, like they had been hit by lightening.

Indeed, he could also feel the residual heat of whatever energy had been released into the room through his booted feet. The catwalk was still warm with it.

Edmond walked forwards and down the steps to the scene of carnage below. It was a nightmare. His first thought was how could this have happened. He reached behind his back and drew his quarterstaff. He half expected Seth to step out from behind a pillar and attack him.

But, as he reached the bottom of the steps, he heard it. The sound of ragged breathing.

He picked up his pace as he lightly stepped over limbs and ruined bodies. His revulsion of the carnage had impacted on his cloak, and, under the control of his subconscious, it had shortened so as not to get covered in blood.

Rounding one of the pillars that held up the catwalk, he came across a huddled black shape. Edmond knew instantly that it was Hunter.

Edmond dropped to one knee and grabbed a hold of the other knight, turning him round to face him. Hunter’s face was covered in drying blood, streaked with tears. Edmond felt his heart skip a beat. He and Hunter had never seen eye to eye while they had competed against each other during training. Plus they had gone on their first mission together, and it had nearly ended in disaster. They were not enemies, but neither were they friends. But, recently, they had somehow forced a bond with each other. Edmond had not even been truly aware of it. They had been forced together to help each other survive and to protect Dawn and her friends. It was the sort of bond that could only come from surviving together.

Edmond wanted to let the tears he felt in his eyes fall. But he knew that he had to stay strong for his friend.

“Can you walk?” he asked Hunter softly.

Hunter looked up at Edmond blankly for a moment, like the question was temporarily beyond his ability to fathom. But, slowly he nodded.

Edmond let a small smile creep from the corner of his mouth and he stood back up, offering his hand to Hunter to help him up.

Hunter closed his eyes for a moment, and then he took the offered hand. It was a small thing, but after the death he had just caused to human and demon alike, it was contact with the real world. Human contact.

Hunter rose to his feet with Edmond helping him up. Then, without a spoken word, the two knights walked side-by-side back up the steps and out into the blooming sunlight.

Despite the circumstances of the night, it was going to be a lovely day in Sunnydale.

Epilogue

Everywhere was black. They were dressed in black and it matched their moods.

They were all there. Giles stood next to Dawn. He was dressed in a black suit and white shirt with a tie so dark red it was almost black itself.

Dawn had dressed in a strappy black number and a matching jacket. She had brushed her hair till it had shone and carefully applied makeup to her pale face.

With the exception of the fact she had a haunted and vacant look in her eyes, she looked almost normal again.

On the other side of her was Anya, still in a wheelchair. Xander stood by her side, their hands clasped so tightly that it seemed like they were afraid to let each other go, their knuckles white under the pressure.

Willow and Tara stood on Giles’s other side. They were both crying. Willow for the loss of Buffy and Tara, less from the loss, but more from the pain that was in her loves heart. They were holding each other as they gazed at the view, both dressed in almost matching ankle length black dresses, who’s hems floated in the near still breeze. Willow’s eye shadow had run down her cheeks in twin black lines, tracing their way down to her chin.

Tara turned Willow’s head to hers and took a tissue and carefully wiped the mess away. When she was done, she leaned her head against Willows and together they turned back to the view.

Some view.
It consisted of a beautifully manicured grass expanse, with small beds of flowers seemingly randomly scattered. Above them, a blossom tree shed delicate pink buds onto the ground like floral tears. Visible through the branches was the palest blue sky that he had seen in months, with not a cloud in site. There were no gravestones in this corner of the cemetery. It was still new, untouched by death. Till today.

But despite all the colours, they were all black at their core.

For framed by all this was a casket.

The casket was ion silver with silver trimmings.

Inside was Buffy Anne Summers.

The priest stepped forwards. He was ready to start at last. Sombrely raising the black bible in his hands, he began to read, his eyes flicking from the coffin to his bible. His voice was a deep tenor, and seemed to personify the sobriety of the situation.

“For the lord said; for everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to tear, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; A time for war, and a time for peace.”

He paused and looked at the congregation, his gaze taking in everything and everyone as only someone who had dealt with grief before could do. “Buffy Anne Summers has passed from this, our physical world, and into the next. She has risen on her good deeds into heaven, where she will live forevermore. She has fought her war, and now she has her peace.”

He paused again to look across the group closest to the coffin, his gaze passing over Willow and Tara, Giles, Dawn, Anya and Xander. “I’m sure if she could share with you any words in this dark hour, they would be words of comfort, words of solace. But she is not here, and so we must instead think of what she would say, or have those closest to her say it for us.”

The priest nodded gently to Giles who wiped a tear from his eye. He moved round the casket till he stood at its head, where the priest had stood and he recalled the speech that he had written and rehearsed till late into the night.

But a rehearsed speech now seemed wrong to him. As he stared down upon the visage of her final resting place, he knew that she deserved better than a practiced speech. She deserved what came from his heart.

“Those who were closest to Buffy knew this moment would come someday. But we had always planned on her life as if she were immortal. During her last few months, she knew grief as we do now. She lost her mother and it gave her pause for thought.”

Giles paused to swallow hard, trying not to cry and he glanced over at Dawn and he could not help a tear slide from his left eye.

“But with Dawn, she found a new meaning to her life.”

He paused again to take the handkerchief from his pocket to his eye to remove another tear and he returned his gaze to the coffin. “Buffy was a sister, a friend and a protector. She would have done anything within her power to help those in need. And so we stand here, a witness to that fact. For she has gone above and beyond the call of her duty as a human being. She died to give Dawn a chance at life. She died so we could all go on living. She died for the world.”

Giles paused, his breathing coming short and shallow as he fought to swallow the tears that were mounting in his eyes.

“I swear, here and now, that she did not die in vain. That we, her family, will continue the work she did.”

Giles broke completely as the tears streamed down his cheeks in a wave of grief. He wanted to say so much about Buffy, but he could not find the words.

Xander stepped away from Anya, prising his hand from hers. He moved up besides Giles and squeezed his shoulder.

Giles looked at the younger man, and they shared a moment of total clarity. Xander knew what Giles had wanted to say.

“I can’t say much about Buffy that everyone does not already know,” he began, his voice raw with emotion, “and even if I could, how can I describe what is in my heart? Buffy may have died, but,” he paused to take a deep breath, “but she will go one, in here,” he reached up and touched his forehead, then moved his hand to cover his heart, “and here.”

Xander stepped back from the coffin as tears streaked down his cheeks. He shook his head and moved over to Anya and knelt besides her chair. Leaning his head against hers they both were crying silent tears.

Dawn wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and she moved forwards to place a single white rose on the casket. Leaning forwards, she rested a hand on the cool silver casket and whispered to no one in particular. “I love you Buffy.”

The priest stepped back up to the head of the casket, and bowed his head slightly. “The lord is my shepherd: I shall lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He guides me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.”

He raised his head and look straight out over the coffin, the tree at his back and the blossoms fell heavier, and the sun went behind a cloud as though the world itself mourned her passing.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil. My cup runs over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the lord forever.”

The priest stepped forwards and rested his hand on the coffin. “We now say goodbye to you, Buffy Anne Summers. As the lord takes you to your rightful place in heaven, he leaves us with a final message. Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you; not as the world gives, give I to you. Don't let your heart be troubled, neither let it be fearful.

He looked up to the sky and used his hand to make the symbol of the cross across his chest “Answer me when I call, God of my righteousness. Give us relief from our distress. Have mercy on us, and hear our prayers.”

As the tears continued to flow from the gathering, the casket sank into the ground. Giles followed it with his eyes, mentally saying goodbye to Buffy, as did all the others.

As the casket finally disappeared from view, they all felt as if their hopes had gone down as well.

Then, when the coffin finally was gone, the sun came out in a blaze from behind the clouds, and the wind rose.

The light shone down through the branches of the tree, and bathed the hole in light, while delicate blossoms fell in to lie atop the silver of the wood.

**********

Hunter and Edmond stood under a tree. They were both hidden in shadows and went unobserved by the small congregation that had assembled to pay their respects to Buffy.
Edmond looked sideways at Hunter. He had not attempted to talk to his friend about recent events. Except till today. The two had been staying at the abandoned office where Hunter had made his temporary home.

This morning, Hunter had gotten up without a word and headed to the cemetery. Edmond had quickly followed and stressed his reservations about Hunter seeing Dawn again, reminding him about the deal he had made with the powers.

Hunter had acknowledged the fact that she was not allowed any contact with him, but had told

Edmond he needed to see if she was safe.

Edmond had reluctantly agreed and had tagged along to the funeral.
It was a small and intimate affair. Just the priest and the Scooby gang present.

Hunter kept his mind carefully guarded from his friend. If Edmond knew what he had instigated, then he would be in for a major lecture. But he knew these things needed doing.
He had snuck out a few nights ago and planted a spell book in Willows mind. It instructed her how to block people’s memories.

She had then cast it and removed the memories of Buffy’s death.

No one now knew what had happened the other day except himself, Edmond and the gang.
But he had gone further. He had also planted the desire in all the gang to repair the Buffy-bot to impersonate the dead slayer.

It was probably a bad thing, psychologically speaking, for them to endure. But Hunter knew that, without a slayer around, Sunnydale would really become a hell on earth.
He and Edmond had been recalled to England, and to Tintagel castle where Merlin resided.
He was going home, but was determined not to leave Dawn without some protection.

What else could he do?

He still loved her, even though she did not know he existed.

Hunter’s gaze followed Dawn as she and the gang made their way to the waiting cars.

Edmond looked at Hunter again. “Time to go?” he asked softly,

Hunter nodded. “I'll be along in a moment.”

Edmond frowned. “I don’t think…” he began.

“I’ll meet you down at the docks in a few minutes,” he said, interrupting his friend.

Edmond’s frown deepened. But he turned and walked off towards the docks.

As Hunter watched, Willow repeated the spell and removed the memory of the funeral service from the priest. Then, she cast another spell that folded space around the gravesite. Now, anyone who passed by would not see the grave unless they knew what to look for.

Suddenly, just before getting into the back seat of Giles’ red BMW, Dawn froze and looked at the tree under which he hid.

He knew that Dawn could not see him, did not know he existed, but just for a moment, his heart skipped a beat.

Then, shaking her head as more tears of grief slid down her cheeks, she moved into the car.
Hunter watched it pull away, and then he too made a move.

It was time to go home.

END