The Rest of My Life

Chapter 26 – Alternate Dimension, 6 July 2004 

Hitting this bloke is a bit like hitting a brick wall. Well, except that bricks crumble. I give it my best shot and it has absolutely no effect. He just stands there and takes blow after blow, not even trying to defend himself. Then, apparently bored, he changes his stance, and starts hitting me.

The first blow throws me across the room. The second pushes me part of the way through the wall behind me. After that, all I'm getting is a general impression and rapidly mounting pain. I can smell my own blood, and I have no chance to even think about getting out of the way, because as soon as I'm down, he's there again.

I know this is the end; I've never felt so helpless. And at last, when I'm sure I can't get up again, he stops, looks at me, and scans the room.

"This is the problem with modern design, you see. Not much in the wood line when you need it. But," he murmurs, "I expect this'll do."

He pulls a pencil out of his pocket.

He doesn't finish that; his attention suddenly somewhere else.

"It … recognised her! Stupid interfering …" he says, before just disappearing.

I know this is just a short respite. I know that, somehow, Buffy's doing something he doesn't like. I know he's gone to stop her, and I know she doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. I think about standing, but even the effort of working out which muscles to use seems like hard work. My foot’s lying at an impossible angle, and I reach down to try to straighten my leg. Even that proves too much – any strength my arms once had gone in the pain that tinges everything red. I take in the surroundings, trying to think of some way to at least resist when he comes back, but there's nothing.

And then, it all changes. There's a throbbing in the air, it’s telling me to get up. I don't understand it, but there's no way I can resist it. I try to set my leg straight again, ignoring the searing agony it causes. This time, with a supreme effort, I have some success, and I try to pull myself to my feet. Something that would normally be an instinct, without conscious thought, has become an effort involving meticulous planning, except I know I don’t have time for that. I allow myself a few seconds to decide the best way to proceed, then just do it. Once on my feet, I lurch towards the wall, but even that doesn’t make progress noticeably easier. 

It's all I can do to keep moving, but as I do, it seems to get easier. Maybe there's just a point when every nerve in your body is already registering pain, and it can't register any more, I don't know. By the time I reach the staircase, I know it's more than that. There's no way I could even have contemplated climbing stairs a few moments ago, but now, I'm not just contemplating it, I'm doing it. Slowly and painfully, but I'm doing it.

There's a bright light ahead, so bright it's dazzling, and I know that's where I'm heading. It might well burn me to a crisp, but I also know it's where Buffy is, so it's where I need to be. The closer I get, the more the pain recedes, and by the time I walk though the door to the crystal room, I'm feeling just normal 'beaten up' pain, not the agony of a short while ago.

My visitor, Mr. Senior Partner's lackey or whatever, is trying to reach the Slayers. They're surrounding that crystal we saw earlier, all holding onto someone who's actually touching it. He can't get there, though. Something's holding him away, stopping him from making contact.

It's my chance. Somehow, I know that everything's changed now.

I pull him around to face me. He looks surprised but not worried.

"I thought we'd already finished this. Last time I saw you, you were lying in a pool of your own blood, just waiting for me to find something wooden to finish the job."

"Well, they always say, 'don't count your chickens,'" I answer before pulling my arm back to hit him as hard as I can.

No longer an immovable object, he flies away from me, bouncing off an invisible barrier between me and the Slayers. I move towards him, putting my hand around his throat, and I push him back towards the Slayers. He doesn't seem to be able to mount much resistance, and he stumbles backwards slowly. Whatever resistance there was between his body and the Slayers has changed too, because I'm able to keep pushing until his back brushes against the closest Slayer, and the instant that happens, he bursts into flame.

My first instinct is to move back. I mean, vampire here. Fire is not my friend. But this fire has no heat. I know it's not a danger to me or the Slayers, so I hold him where he is. He's screaming, but I don't let go, and soon, he just crumbles in my hand, disappearing into nothing. And then, there's an explosion, and after that, darkness.