The vampire currently stalking back and forth in front of them was a slender woman, who Giles didn't for a moment doubt was more of a threat than the rest of the bulkier, more dangerous-looking vampire thugs surrounding them. There was something about her eyes, that cold stare, that made every animal instinct he retained want to bare his throat in submission.
"There were always stories about vampires with actual powers of persuasion, such as have been attributed to them over the centures, but nothing was ever documented and it was always assumed to be a hoax, or some kind of primitive mesmerism--" "Can we save the research for later, Giles? I'd kind of like to get out of here, can we maybe work on that?" Buffy pulled at the manacles around her wrists, then kicked out at the heavier chains on her legs. They were chained to a wall. Medieval in appearance, save, as Angel had immediately pointed out, there weren't any rats, or dripping water running down their backs. Giles had started to interrogate Angel on his experiences with dungeons, but then La Femme Vampira had shown up, and conversation had been understandably limited. So far, the vampires hadn't actually done anything to them, save hang them up like sides of beef. Angel was also chained, although it was with a length of chain link around his neck, tied to a link in the corner. Like a dog in a kennel, Giles had observed, but not felt the desire to share with his companions. He knew what they were there for. And he would be damned if he would give them the satisfaction. He would not call Mada into the Hellmouth, risking gods knew what kind of reaction. Besides, he wasn't sure she would be able to control her revulsion around so many of the undead. If she couldn't destroy them, she might be tempted to call upon her father. And while Rupert had more than once found a quiet glade in which to lay an offering, he didn't want to attract any up-close-and-personal attention from that particular worthy. Besides. He had no idea of the relative matched strengths of massed demons versus a god out of it's element. And despite Buffy's constant complaints, there were some areas of research he wasn't willing to dive into. At least, not without some serious thought and preparation beforehand. Buffy, without that knowledge, was becoming restless again. "Come on," she taunted the leader. "Either fight me or bite me. But let's not hang around all night, okay? I've got a history test to take, and not even the undead are a good enough excuse for missing a midterm." Normally, Giles would have counseled her to save her strength, or not to annoy the vampires without need. But it didn't matter. They weren't going to hurt --" "Ow!" The outburst was involuntary, as a thin, edged lash came out from behind Vampira's back and sliced across his leg, leaving a neat slice in his pants leg, and the sting of a matching slice in his skin. "Call her," the vampire ordered. Giles set his teeth in preparation for another lash, reminding himself that pain was, after all, transitory. He could survive it, if he just wasn't there for it. It wasn't accepted Watcher training, but so much of his life hadn't been. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He wasn't not going to use a toool because it wasn't handbook-approved. Pity he hadn't thought to teach Buffy this. Not that it mattered -- she wasn't in danger here. Not for the moment, anyway. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He had already lost sensation in his arms, so there wasn't that to worry about. Deep breath in, deep breath out, and the next lash didn't hurt as much as it should have. The pain was interesting, in a way. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, the edges of his skin where they were curling apart, the blood seeping in a slow, salty flow and dripping down his legs. But it was an intellectual exercise. There was nothing other than disinterested curiosity. "Giles?" His Slayer sounded uncertain. Poor Buffy. It must be difficult for her, to not be the center of the vampires' attentions. She doesn't know how to react. He tried to muster a reassuring smile for her, but the lash slicked out again. This time, it landed across his stomach, tearing through vest and shirt, and the surprise of that was almost enough to shatter his meditaion. Deep breath in, deep breath out. It hurt. The shock of it sent him deeper within himself, taking refuge in a molten core of warmth, coiling golds and reds of ropey lava flows. Panahoe, his brain told him. Yes, that was correct. Panahoe. "Call her!" the vampire demanded again, and distantly he could hear Buffy calling to him, to Angel, asking to be told what to do. Poor Buffy, he thought again. It would be a shame to have her see her second Watcher die. It might traumatize her beyond the Council's ability to repair. A cool part of his brain reminded him that there was still Kendra, waiting in the wings. She would do an adequate job of keeping the demons at bay. "Giles!" Concern. Fear. Affection, shot with the need not to lose anyone else. He hoped that Angel would take care of Buffy, when this was over. Deep breath in, deep breath out. And the lash came again, across his chest, and Giles fell into the lava. Buffy was furious. Her wrists pulled at the chains again, the blood and sweat on her skin greasing the metal, but not enough to allow her to slip out of them. She swore, swallowing hard against tears as she saw her Watcher slump in his chains, blood running from a dozen cuts across his body. The handful of vampires huddled behind Miss Bitch were practically salivating, and she felt her own blood boil with the need to stake every single one of them on long pole, like a demonic shishkabob. That was her Watcher, damnit! Angel was extended to the end of the chain, straining to reach her. But the chain around his neck was a brilliant touch -- if he broke it, he risked breaking his own spine. The Bitch flicked her crop against Giles' face this time, leaving a delicate line of blood across one cheekbone, and demanded again, call her." Call who? Buffy screamed silently. I'm right here, damnit! Cut me down and let's go for it. A real girl fight. I'll pull every single strand of your hair out, see if I don't There was a stir at the back of the dungeon, and the heavy door was thrown back, crashing into the wall, scattering the vampires. "Mada?" Buffy breathed in disbelief. What the hell was she doing here? She was going to get killed! Angel, for his part, fell back against his wall. His face was curiously shuttered, frozen between hope and resignation. The dark-haired woman walked into the room, her feet, bare, making soft slapping sounds against the concrete floor. She wore a loose-fitting green tunic over her jeans, and a heavy silver pendant around her neck. Her face was set in stone, and her eyes burned like the fires of hell. Vamp Bitch turned to face her new guest, her smile widening. "I'm so glad you could accept my invitation," she purred. "You are a fool," Mada replied, her attention focused not on the vampires around her, but on Giles. "Your Master could have told you that. Angel could have told you that. But you've got something to prove, don't you? You've got to prove you can hold your pack against all comers. Well, guess what, demon. You can't defend against me. Not when you invoke with blood that belongs to =me=." She made a sharp gesture, and the links binding Giles released. He fell limply to the floor, groaning, and from the doorway Willow rushed to help him up. "Willow? You brought Willow into this?" Buffy was beyond livid. First she was going to tear Miss Bitch a new asshole, then she was going to stuff Mada's head into it. The vamps made a move towards Willow, but stopped at a gesture from the human intruder. "These are mine," Mada said calmly. "Touch them again, while I am here, and your stolen blood will rise up to strangle you." "And what of these two?" Miss Bitch asked, gesturing first to Buffy, and then to Angel. "They are not yours, and you have no right to reclaim them." Willow stopped, and Giles lifted his head to stare at Mada. Something passed between the two of them, and Giles straightened himself, one hand on Willow's shoulder. "That is a problem," Mada admitted. "Willow and Rupert are mine to protect. The others have not recognized me -- nor are they likely to." The vamps took a step forward. "But Buffy is Rupert's to protect, by vows and obligations. He is within his rights to call upon me for aid in that protection..." Vampira smiled. "A challenge, godling? Here, in this place, I will take you. I will drink your blood and assume the powers which are yours." Mada wasn't paying attention any more. She was looking at Giles again, a sad, longing look on her face. "This is your call, first beloved." "Protect her." The pained whisper was so faint, Buffy could barely hear it. But Mada could. She nodded, one tear slipping from her grass-green eyes. Vampira cocked he head at their byplay, a cruel smile cruling her lips. "So sweet. But none of it will make any difference anyway." Mada dropped Giles' gaze, turning to stare at the lead vampire for the first time. it was a long, slow, assessing look, and Mada made it quite clear that she wasn't impressed. "Your playground," she said slowly. "But my rules." And with that, she clasped the pendant in one hand and reached forward with the other, offering her grasp to her demonic opponent. "Come out and play," she invited, in an uncanny echo of the vampire's earlier words to Buffy. The words were innocent enough, but there was an undercurrent there; something dark and chilling and sharp-edged. And despite herself, Buffy shivered, glad that she had never said any of the things she had been thinking to this suddenly-dangerous woman. Vampira laughed, reaching out to take Mada's proffered hand -- And there was a slash of silver and blue that crackled through the dungeon, encasing both women in a waterfall of living electricity. The vampire's face changed, losing its human attributes, the entire body flowing into a form that was humanoid, but not human at all. A sparkle of angry orange ran along their connection, trying to disrupt the silver and blue. More sparkles followed it, and soon a tricolored rope twined around the two figures, drawing in closer and closer as though to strangle them both. "Hello? Could someone maybe get me down from here?" From across the room, Buffy saw Angel, curled up in a ball as far from the two figures as he could get, watching the 'fight' with that same look of fearful expectation on his face. "Hello? Willow?" Her friend looked up, startled away form the scene in front of them, and then said something to Giles. Making sure he could stand on his own, she hurried to the Slayer's side. "Here. Hold still. This is a lot tougher than Meddy makes it look." "Just hurry, okay?" There was a slight vibration as whatever tool Willow was using hummed to life, and then the manacles fell from Buffy's wrists. Willow bent to repeat the proceedure at her ankles, all the while casting anxious glances over her shoulder. The vamps, in the meantime, were huddled near the door. Buffy's practiced eye took them in, evaluating the threat. Pikers, she dismissed them all. They weren't going to attack while their leader wasn't around to give orders. And if she lost, they'd probably run. She narrowed her eyes, thinking about taking them out now, while everyone was occupied, but gave that idea up quickly. Too crowded in here -- she'd be spending too much time worrying about hurting someone human. "Oh, no," she heard Willow whisper. She looked down quickly at her friend, then to where the other girl was staring. A thick, purple-black tentacle of power was coming from the demon, moving slow like.. like blood, Buffy realized, pulling the knowledge from what that gang called her Spidey sense. The demon was using the power of the blood she had sucked out of people, turning it into energy somehow. "I knew I should have spent less time on history, and more on Slayer stuf," she muttered, feeling the itching need to do something, but not knowing what. This was wrong. Wrong with a capital Uh-oh, like Xander always said. Poor Xander, she thought in passing. He's going to be miffed he missed this. Although Cordelia... something clicked in her brain, and she almost stopped breathing at the possibilities, but then her training kicked in and she shoved that thought away for following up on -- later. Assuming any of them were still alive. The colors seemed evenly matched now, silver and blue tangling with orange and purple-black. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Giles move. Not forward, to interfere, or backwards, to get out of the way, but.. down. he was kneeling. Why the hell was he -- He was unbuttoning his shirt, pulling aside the tattered and bloody material, dabbing his fingers in some of the blood there and holding out his hand towards the two figures locked in silent, motionless combat. His voice rose in an unfamiliar language, then again in English. "Of that which was given, Take freely. My blood to your strength. My love to your strength. My life to your strength." For a long moment, there was no reaction, and Buffy was about to go drag him out of harm's way, when his hands started to glow. A deep golden light filled them, leeching itself from his skin and pooling like a living creature cupped inside his fingers. More and more, the glow increased, and Giles swayed as though at prayer. His lips moved, but no sound came from them. or maybe it did, and Buffy couldn't hear over the buzzing in her ears. "I don't like this," she said to no-one in particular. "I really really don't like this." Then the light was gone, and Giles slumped forward, face down and ashen. "Giles!" The two girls rushed to his side then, trying to find a pulse. Buffy cradled his upper body, unaware of the blood which still ran from him, staining her hands and clothes. "Willow, help me get him out of the way." No response. "Damnit, Willow!" She looked up, and saw what had transfixed Willow's attention. The coils of power were thicker than before, the four colors pulsing like heartbeats. But into those heavy bindings, a delicate gold traced under and over, racing into every available space. The Slayer looked at the tracings, then down at her Watcher, passed out and barely breathing. "Giles did that?" she asked, trying to put the pieces togther. Willow shook her head. "That is Giles," she corrected. "At least, what's important. I think. The Mysteria said something about this, about the power of the offering, but I never got around to asking Meddy about that section. We were kinda stuck on --" "Not enough." They looked down to see Giles' eyes had opened. "Giles, what --" "Get out. I pushed enough, she may win, but we have to." He stopped for a painful breath. "Get out of here. Go." "Not without you," she said firmly, hoisting him up onto his feet. "I'll carry you if I have to, but I'd really rather not. Willow, can you get to Angel?" Willow judged the distances, then nodded. "Okay, good. Pick his lock, or whatever it was you did, and meet us upstairs. It has to be almost dawn, we should be safe enough outside." Giles tried to protest, but the girls were moving more quickly than he could react, and Buffy had no problem moving him towards the doorway. Only one of the vampires was foolish enough to try and stop her, and one icily-bright smile from the Slayer made him back off. "Smart vampires. You may unlive to see another night." And then she was taking the stairs a slow one-at-a-time, feeling Giles' weight become heavier and heavier. "Come on, I'm not going to lose another Watcher, damnit. They'll never issue me another one." "Too true," he said on a coughing laugh. They made it up the steep-cut stairs, not encounting another being -- human or otherwise. Behind them, she could hear Willow and Angel talking softly, their breath coming in slow heaves. At the top of the stairs was a flat, double-sided door. Buffy leaned Giles against the wall and pushed against it. The metal resisted, then gave way, falling open to show the pale dawn sky above them. "Thank god," Buffy said, turning to help Willow out, Angel having opted for a more underground route of escape. "Indeed," Giles said faintly, a sadness in his voice. On the heels of his words, there was a rumble underground, and the doors were limmed with a charge of static, flickering all the colors of the rainbow before rising up and slamming shut, sealing the underground dungeon securely. "Giles?" Willow's voice sounded faint, scratchy, suddenly looking for guidance. But Giles had passed out again. "We've got to get him to a hospital." "No," Buffy said. "No hospital. Hospitals mean police reports, and I'm not anxious to go through that again." She looked around, taking stock of where they were. "Miss Callender lives around here, doesn't she?" Willow nodded, looking nervous. "Oh, come on, Willow. She won't kick him out if he's bleeding." A pause. "I don't think." When they arrived on Jenny's doorstep as she was heading out for her morning jog, there was a moment of hesitation, and Buffy thought that perhaps she had overestimated Ms. Callender's willingness to put aiside her memories. But then Giles moaned, and Jenny saw the blood, and her face changed. "Come in. Quickly." They settled him on the flower-patterened sofa, half-upright, a heavy blanket under him to keep the blood from staining it. Jenny went to get her first aid kit, and set Buffy to boiling water. Willow, her hands gentle, started to remove what was left of Giles' shirt. "Oh my god," Jenny said from the doorway. "What?" Buffy hurried in to see what she was missing, and stopped dead next to Jenny as Willow slid the material over Giles' shoulders. His skin was pale, stretched out over a body more muscular than his profession would indicate. And over those muscles, bisecting the skin, was a heavy pattern of scarring. Thin and thick runnels of raised white scar tissue criss-crossed his back and shoulders, as though -- "As though someone took a whip to him," Jenny said. "Or a knife," Buffy added. "A heated knife. Those scars are cauterized." She shrugged at the look Jenny shot her. "I pick these things up, you know?" Willow seemed to be ignoring them, using the rags of his shirt to wipeaway what blood she could from his chest and belly. "Buffy. The water?" "Oh. Yeah." The Slayer moved to the table by the sofa and placed a pot of boiled water on a coaster there. Her eyes flicked to his face, then back to the scarring, old and new. "What happened to him?" Jenny's voice was a whisper. Buffy shrugged. "You know Giles. He'll talk your ear off about demons and old texts, but getting anything personal out of him..." "Yes. I know." Willow continued cleaning the gashes, paying no attention to the conversation behind her. One hand reached backwards for the first aid kit, which Jenny handed over without comment. "These should be stitched up," Willow said, worried. "And antibiotics. We need something to prevent infection." Her hand seemed to move of it's own accord to his collarbone, where a small, horn-shaped scar gleamed, cleaner and more defined than the other scars. Her fingers lifted away, going to her own collarbone. "Meddy..." But there was no answer, and she went on, bandaging what she could. Jenny and Buffy crowded behind her, wanting to help but not knowing what to do, since Willow had effectively taken over. Periodically, Jenny's gaze would drop from Giles' face to the battered and scarred torso below, and then jerk her attention back to his face. His hair was tousled, sweat dampening his skin. She bit her lip, closed her eyes as though in prayer. On the sofa, Giles moaned, waking slightly. "Giles? "Mada? Where is she, Willow?" The girl's ducked head and sorrowful expression was answer enough. His eyes closed again. "I take it...the Hellmouth still stands?" "Far as we could tell, yeah. No explosions, no new volcanoes forming. Whatever happened, she kept it contained." Buffy took over the narrative, filling Giles in on the evente since he collapsed. She was fairly bursting with the need to ask him what the hell had happened - how Mada had been able to hold off the vampires - but didn't know how to ask. Jenny, however, having ascertained that Giles was in no danger of dying on her sofa, had no such hesitations. "This... Mehdeah. Who is she? Or maybe, knowing your past, I should ask, =what= is she?" Willow and Buffy both bristled at the tone of the question, but for different reasons. But before either of them could protect their mentors, Giles heaved himself up on the sofa, waving away Willow's concern. "A good question, if unkindly phrased. And the answer, I fear, may have changed rather drastically in the past few hours." Buffy perched on the back of an armchair to listen, while Jenny crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, her gaze fastened firmly onGiles' face. Willow sat on the sofa next to Giles, worrying at a length of gauze in her hands. "I told you, Buffy, that my relationship with Mada is a difficult thing to explain. She is my friend, my teacher, my -- " he hesitated, then plunged on gamely, "my lover, and yet none of that is, in the final analysis, very important. The only thing that matters, understanding Mada, is that she is an avatar." "A what?" Buffy asked. "An avatar," Giles repeated. "The phyiscal manefestation of a deity. Although Mada is a little more complicated than that, as two dieties were involved in her birth..." "She is the flesh of the Mother, the blood of the Hunter," Willow recited, then shrugged when Giles shot her a startled, somewhat amused glance. "I learn fast. And who else, speaking Welsh?" "Indeed." "Whoa. Let me get this straight. Meddy's a god?" "Demi-god, at best," Jenny said, her pose not unbending an inch. "Along the lines of Hercules." "Or Xena," Willow piped up, then subsided. "So that's why you were so worried about what she might do to the Hellmouth. Even a demi-god.... that could have gotten messy." "Indeed," he said again. "And what you were doing..." The smoke was practically pouring out of Buffy's ears, she was thinking so hard. "You were giving her the strength to take on Vampira. She was using you--" "It was a willing gift," he reminded her. "The blood was only symbolic. It was my willingness to die for her that made the transfer possible. A prayer, of sorts. Prayer of action, rather than words or intent. There are a number of translations from the original --" "Yeah. I know. I mean, I figured that part out. But was it enough to let her win?" Willow and Giles exchanged glances, as though checking for information. "I don't know," he said heavily. "I don't know." Jenny reached out instinctively to Giles, drawn by the misery in his voice, then pulled up short. "My mythology's not what it should be," she admitted, her voice brittle, "so correct me if I'm wrong. But if you had died in that offering, the power would have bumped her up to full godhead, wouldn't it?" "That is the theory, yes. It was not something Meddy was keen on trying out. In fact, she tried her best to disuade me from.. my allegiances." "But you wouldn't. Rupert Giles, ever faithful." Buffy's voice was muted, but the affecton in it was clear. Giles blushed slightly, only now realized that his upper torso was bare, and reached for his ragged shirt. He looked at it, raised his eyebrows as though only now realizing what had happened, then shrugged slightly, as though to say do your worst' to the fates. What was a little physical nakedness when your insides have been put on display as well? "So, either Meddy's gone into full-bore godhood and wiped the Hellmouth up with Vampira's dust, or--" Buffy stopped. "Giles? If she would have become a god because a follower died for her, what would happen if..." "If she died for a follower?" Willow finished, her voice very small. "Um. Well." Giles looked extremely uncomfortable with the question. It was Jenny who came to his rescue. "The last time that happned, the followers created a religion around him." Buffy's hand went to the cross around her neck, and in a very quiet voice said "Oh." more