In times of extreme crisis, there’s an instant where you hang suspended in thought, waiting for someone else to make a decision. Unless, of course, you’re the Slayer.
“Go!” Buffy shouted, giving the body nearest her— Cordelia—a push. The brunette stumbled forward, nearly losing her footing and a shoe in the sand, then turned around, indignant and scared.
“Go where?” she wailed, gesturing wildly at the vampires rushing at them, cutting them off from the road and the safety of Oz’s van.
“Great.” The Slayer pulled a stake from the back waistband of her shorts, and held it comfortably in her hand. “Angel, work with me. The rest of you, scatter, do what damage you can without looking too much like targets, okay?”
Even as she spoke, her gaze scanned the beach, looking for something else to use as a weapon—
Oh great. Instead of doing what a sensible guy would—yell at someone to free him—Lee was still lying on the ground, staring in disbelief at the merrows.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Someone get that idiot out of here!”
“No time,” Oz said, his voice steady.
“At least get those cuffs off and give him a weapon!”
Cordelia snatched the keys from Oz and dropped to Dr. Lee’s side to unlock the cuffs. He looked at her, blankly, as though unable to remember who she was.
“Terrific.” She gave him a good, hard, get-out-of-here shove, then scrambled back to rejoin the group. “I’m not liking this. I mean, I stopped hanging with you losers for a reason. And this was pretty much it.”
As she was complaining, Cordelia pulled a stake from the pocketbook still slung over her shoulder, and looked at it. “Think this’ll slow down fish guys?”
“It’s going to have to,” Buffy said, grimly. “Do your best, guys. All we have to do is hold off the vamps until the sun gets high enough to burn them.”
“And the merrows?” Xander asked.
“We take care of them on our own,” Giles replied grimly, readying his own stake.
And then the two groups were on them.
* * *
Okay, this is new, Buffy thought, trying to sweep the legs out from under a merrow, and watching it fall back a pace before charging again. Usually, vampires rushed the nearest warm body, like they couldn’t wait to get at your throat.
Well, duh.
But these boys were hanging back, snarling and pacing, like they weren’t sure who to attack first, humans or merrows.
Normally, Buffy would be happy to get their attention. Preparatory to dusting them, of course. But Giles was right. Right now, the merrows were the bigger problem.
Mainly ’cause they aren’t real picky on who they maul. Like rabid dogs, they’re munching just ’cause they’re feeling mean.
She set her feet firmly on the damp, packed sand, and used an open-handed slap to fend off a vampire, spinning him into the clutches of a merrow, who chomped down like it was feeding time in the shark tank—then pushed the vamp away, spitting. It looked like Giles was right—again—and the merrows weren’t able to tell who was edible and who wasn’t until they bit in. No sense of smell whatsoever. Lucky them, ’cause they smell powerful bad.
But that meant that they—unlike the vamps—were attacking anything that wasn’t them.
“Oz! Watch out!”
Buffy grabbed the merrow heading for her friend, and spun him—her? it?—around.
“Me first, fishsticks.”
The merrow snarled and lunged.
* * *
This, Giles thought, panting, was never covered in the handbook. I really need . . . to write an addendum to it someday. Not . . . that the Council will . . . authorize its inclusion—
He’d snatched up a piece of driftwood and was using it to dual purpose—bashing it over any merrow who got in his way, then reversing it to use as a stake for vampires. It was less than effective, mainly because the drier sand where he was standing created uncertain footing, making it impossible for him to land a firm blow anywhere. Perhaps I should have listened to Willow when she insisted we attempt the spell barefoot again . . . but I hate the feel of sand between my toes.
Just as Giles thought that, the sole of his shoe hit a wet patch of sand, and he slid, landing hard on his back, the breath completely knocked out of him. As he struggled just to fill his lungs again, a vampire leaned over him, game face on, and drooling.
* * *
“Ariel, come here, uh, abhus, now!” Willow ordered, grabbing the selkie and giving the merrow coming their way her best threatening glare.
Unfortunately, her best didn’t faze the creature, who had eyes only for the frightened selkie. Its mouth opened, and the teeth flashed forward, then retreated back into the gullet. Willow felt her knees give, like they never had facing down vampires. Yggggghhhh. Willow shuddered. They really are like sharks. Wonder if they eat—no, don’t go there, you don’t want to think about that!
Those flat, black eyes showed nothing but hunger, the face gave no indication of what it was thinking, and the way it moved, ungainly but strong, creeped her out completely.
They’re inhuman. I mean, more inhuman than non-humans usually are. They’re not even humanlike . . .
It took another step closer, and there was a coughing noise, weird, but somehow familiar, coming from the water. Ariel squeaked, her hands scrabbling at the skin that had somehow remained attached to her shoulders despite the flurry of activity. The last remnants of the spell components glittered under her hands, and the skin seemed to . . . expand, flowing and clinging like something alive.
Willow blinked, and reached for the selkie, but Ariel avoided her easily, running into the water, moving faster now than the merrow could on land.
“Ariel!”
Willow caught a flash of an arm lifting out of the waves—no, a flipper! A small, gray seal’s flipper, the torpedolike body swimming strongly away from the shore.
It worked! The spell worked! Willow thought in delight. All it needed was for Ariel to accept it back onto her body!
The merrow, cheated of its preferred prey, turned back to Willow, its mouth opening again in obvious anticipation of that first bite.
Oh. Uh-oh . . .
Then Oz was beside her, his teeth bared, glaring like he wished it were a full moon, so he could show the merrow who had the really sharp teeth.
* * *
He was acting like a fool, Lee snapped at himself, and fools died. Sean, torn apart like . . . no! Don’t think of that! The pistol, curse it, where was—
His hand closed on it. Teeth bared in a frantic snarl, Lee dragged the weapon out of the folds of his jacket. Now he’d see if these . . . things were mortal enough to die! Hastily, Lee took aim at the nearest of them—
A clawed hand hit his arm with agonizing strength. The gun went flying. Lee scrambled after it, but other clawed hands caught him by both arms. Even though he struggled with all his strength, digging his feet into the sand, he was dragged relentlessly toward the waves. Toward the demons’ home. Toward death—
“No! I’m not ready yet, you!”
A wave caught him in the face, and Lee broke off, choking. It was hopeless. He was going to die in the ocean . . . ironic, amusingly ironic, after all . . .
Something slammed into the creatures holding him and they lost their grip. A seal? No! A selkie! That was surely a selkie! Maelen? rushed through Lee’s stunned brain.
No, impossible. And the selkie hadn’t saved him, just knocked him out of the way so it could fight the other demon. No matter, no matter, it gave him a chance to get free.
Lee scrambled frantically out of the water. Time to analyze what had just happened some other time.
Assuming he lived long enough for there to be some other time!
* * *
Angel was wary of the merrows, remembering all too well what the touch of their claws had done to his system. All right, he’d use that memory, that anger and frustration at not being able to control his own body or strike back at these invaders. Feeling his features shift, he lunged at one, fingers digging under scales and ripping a few off. Green blood flowed thickly, clotting almost instantly.
Slow blooded, Angel noted even as he went in for another strike. Heavy on the coagulants. No wonder they taste so awful.
* * *
Slaying was generally a lonely business. Just you, and the uglies. Sure, sometimes there were a whole bunch of them, and sometimes you had to take them all on in the middle of a crowded mall, but one thing you rarely had to worry about was bumping into someone during the fight!
But then Buffy was out of the melee, her backswing getting lots of open space behind it, before she brought her stake down and dusted a particularly persistent vamp in cowboy boots and fringed denim.
“And it’s another victory for the fashion police!”
Buffy barely managed to finish her obligatory quip before a sudden heavy weight on her back sent her staggering forward. Hard, cold hands grabbed her upper arms, and heavy, dank breath raised gooseflesh on her neck.
“You are so not going to get a date unless you start brushing your teeth,” Buffy said, combining a backward-moving elbow with a drop-the-shoulder-and-twist movement that should have had her free, and her assailant on the sand, gasping for air. Or water. Or whatever it was these things breathed.
Instead, she found herself lying on her side, sand in her face, with the merrow still firmly attached to her with its claws.
Claws. Oh, no . . .
She could feel it now, the cold slow seep of numbness in her arms. Not good. Not good at all. Slayer healing should shake off the worst of it quickly. Should, though, being the operative term here.
Desperate to get this thing off her, Buffy tried to roll a little, to see if she could improve her leverage.
The slap of cold water in her face was a shock.
Oh. Mistake.
Their tussling had moved them far enough down the beach that they were now in the water. The merrow’s element. But, on the plus side, she was so cold now, the numbness didn’t seem so bad.
Before Buffy could react, the merrow started dragging her into deeper water, the current moving them down the beach, away from the others.
And then the merrow dove under a wave, taking her with it . . .
The water was all around her, blue-green, murky and cold . . . It flooded her lungs, seared her brain, and cold, webby hands grabbed hold of her, dragging her down, pulling her away from the air, away from life . . .
Then the pressure was released, and Buffy shot to the surface, gasping for air, and looking around wildly for the merrow.
The cold brush of something in the water beside her made her look down. The merrow, its scaled neck lolling at an impossible angle, floated on its back next to her.
Buffy looked up and saw Angel standing in the hip-deep water across from her.
“So much for your saltwater theory,” she said, gasping a little for breath.
“I took the risk.”
He extended a hand, and she hauled on it, making a face as she felt chilly air on wet clothes, making her shiver despite the warmth a good fight built up. “Yeah, I—”
Suddenly they were under attack again, this time by three merrows who had obviously decided that anything in the water was fair game.
Buffy went after the nearest, then realized that she’d lost hold of her stake somewhere in the water.
The merrow grinned, showing its weird double rows of teeth, and moved forward. Angel had his hands full with the other two, trying to take them down without getting slashed by their claws. Farther up on the beach, she could see her friends still fighting vampires—was that Giles down on the sand?
Stop it! Think about the here and now, worry about them later.
First, there has to be a later.
* * *
The vampire looming over him suddenly exploded into a sparkling of dust, and Giles blinked up at Xander Harris.
“Save the thanks for later, G-man. Cordy needs some help.”
The Watcher nodded, kicking off his shoes and getting to his feet. The sand felt distinctly unpleasant through his socks, but his footing was much more secure.
Cordelia was a dozen yards farther up the beach, caught between three vampires and a merrow. Lee, a few yards behind her, was clearly in shock, unable to defend himself.
Giles grabbed the driftwood and ran toward them, dodging a merrow and a vampire locked in a bitter choking match.
* * *
Xander whirled and nearly collided with a merrow. As it snatched at him, he dodged, slipped on the sand, and went flat on his back, propelling the merrow neatly over his head. As it crashed down on the beach, Xander scrambled up, thinking, Hey, neat, that actually worked!
But the merrow wasn’t out of the fight. Xander gave a yelp of pain as sharp claws clamped down on the calf of his left leg.
“Hey, let go!”
He was struggling across the sand, dragging the creature like a stubborn dog.
“Stupid fish, let go before I kick your teeth in!”
He stumbled, caught up a rock, and hit the merrow over the head. “Let go of me! I said—let go!”
With a grunt, it went limp, and Xander staggered free. But . . . he couldn’t . . .
“I hate fish,” Xander said, and collapsed.
* * *
Somehow, Angel had managed to work his way back to the main fight, standing ankle-deep in the saltwater, trying to keep his balance as the surf rolled around him, and enemies rushed at him. Vampires and merrows both, coming at him from different angles, each with a completely different style of fighting. He was holding his own, but for how long?
And how long did he have before sunrise? The demon inside him wasn’t worried—long enough. Good news for him, bad for his human friends. He had to get to the beach, help them.
Ashes scattered on the water surface, and Angel spared the time before dealing with the next opponent to look over his shoulder, scanning the water one last time. Where is Buffy?
* * *
Fighting in water, Buffy discovered, was exhausting. Now she knew why aqua-aerobics was so popular— you got twice the workout when your hardest kick had only half the impact. Great for your heart rate—lousy for beating up on the bad guys. None of her usual moves was working, and the one time she did try to kick—useless. Time to improvise.
Diving under an oncoming wavelet, she forced her eyes open against the saltwater and scanned the sandy bottom, looking for something that could be used as a weapon. But the water was so murky, she couldn’t see anything other than gray.
She was almost out of breath, swimming to avoid the vampire thrashing around looking for her, when the quick pass of something to her left made her jerk away in reflex. The sleek shape passed—what was that?— but something fell from it, water bubbles rising in its trail.
Reflexively, Buffy caught the object as she rushed to the surface, even her Slayer-enhanced lungs gasping for air.
The vampire was in her face the moment she surfaced, and Buffy slashed out with the object, only after the fact realizing that she was holding a piece of drift-wood, about the size of her hand, rough and splintery, although water-soaked. The edge had been carved or— no, chewed—making it semi-sharp, almost like a pencil point.
“Gotcha!” Buffy said in satisfaction, and drove the wood into the vampire’s heart with all the force she could muster.
The dust fell on the water in pretty patterns, which Buffy barely had time to admire before a pair of hard, scaled hands grabbed her around the ankles and dragged her back underwater.
Back to her nightmare . . .
Even on a sunny day, the water would have been dark. With the cloud cover still obscuring any possible light, the darkness was a terrifying thing. And it didn’t help that her brain immediately starting playing the theme from Jaws. Frantically struggling, Buffy managed to break free for a moment, gasping in a desperate breath, thinking, I’ve got to get off this drowning kick!
She heard an odd, sing-song barking noise, like the grown-up version of Ariel’s whining, and realized that what helped her before was a selkie. Ariel? Or maybe one of her missing parents? Didn’t matter. Suddenly inspired, Buffy shouted out “Help me, underwater!”
She was dragged under again by hard, scaled hands, but managed to push off with one foot against a merrow’s face, and surfaced again, gasping. “We’re trying to help, but this is your home, too!” she shouted, hoping the selkies were still within range, and listening.
Nothing. Nada. Struggling, Buffy was pulled underwater yet again. So much for good intentions. Desperate for air, lungs aching till she could have screamed—if that wouldn’t have meant drowning—she could feel her dream coming true . . .
One last struggle . . . a brief, precious moment back at the surface, a quick, wonderful gulp of air—
And the weird barking song all at once slid into a beautiful, haunting melody.
Weird, all right. Buffy could feel the power of it tingling through the water, almost like electricity. The remaining merrows broke away, the barking noises a taunt, a reminder that there was easier prey to be found in deeper water, food that didn’t kick and stake and kill, leaving Buffy floundering and gasping in sweet, sweet lungfuls of air, in shoulder-deep water.
Ok. No collapse. Not yet.
She paused, trying to force her water-logged brain into processing it all. The seal-guys are taking care of merrows, luring them back out into deep sea. Where they all belong. That of the good. But meantime, no rest for the water-logged . . .
Heh. Driftwood. Grabbing up an improvised stake, Buffy went after the last of the water-logged vampires. Hardly a challenge. No breath left for quips, either.
Not caring. So not caring.
But once she emerged, there were no vampires left to fight. Buffy grinned. Her gang had done her proud. Way to go, she thought wearily, then staggered up the beach to where the gang, and a shamefaced Dr. Lee, were tending to Xander. “Just a bad clawing,” she heard Giles assure them all.
“Good,” Xander said, and went flat.
“Good idea,” Buffy agreed, and sat down. So did the others. Exhausted, they all sat and caught their breath. Only Angel remained standing, his clothing completely waterlogged, his hair plastered to his scalp, looking like a drowned rat. Okay, Buffy amended, a tall, extremely hot rat, but drowned nonetheless.
And, to her surprise, she found that she could think of drowning, even joke about it, without so much as a flicker of a twitch. Yay me, she thought. Nothing like a little trauma to fix a phobia.
“You’re going to be okay?” Angel asked the group.
“Just peachy,” Buffy assured him. “Go, get out of here before the sun rises.”
He cast another glance at them, then at the beach, where only traces of green blood being absorbed into the scuffed-up sand indicated anything had happened.
“Go,” Giles said wearily. Angel looked at the Watcher, nodded, and was gone.
Buffy lay back down on the sand and stared up at the sky, which was beginning to shade into predawn pink.
“Anyone else for hot fudge sundaes for breakfast?”