The Four Horsemen
Author: Ares Word count: 1663 Pairing: B/A PG Thank you, Jo, for a read through and
pronouncing it fit for consumption. Summary: The title says it all. Written for the annual challenge at Writer’s
Toybox. ** “You’ve got to be kidding!” “The way my luck has been running, I’m
not surprised,” Angel said by way of agreement. He and Buffy were crouched in a
defensive stance, their weapons held at the ready, staring at the creatures
that held the fate of the world in their hands. Buffy stared harder. Yes, she
could see that they did, indeed, have hands. Fingers encased in leather, some
in rags, fingers that held loosely the reins of their steeds. As for the
bodies attached to those fingers? Definitely not human. “What do you think?” Buffy asked Angel.
“The usual slice and dice? Or shall we offer them coffee and doughnuts? The
one on the end looks like he needs a bite to eat.” The one on the end was rail thin,
emaciated. A walking corpse, if corpses could walk. Buffy knew that corpses
walked. She eyed Angel out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t like to think
of him as an ambulatory corpse. “His name’s Famine, right?” She added,
trying to dispel the fear that was clutching at her insides. “Death,” Angel corrected. “He’ll fill
out once…” “Once people start dying,” Buffy
finished for him. “People die every day. Why isn’t he fat? Oh… you mean when
billions…” Buffy shuddered. “The Grim Reaper, eh? Not so Grim Reapery to me.”
She hefted her weapon and shifted her feet, resolute. Angel appreciated Buffy’s attempt at
humour. She was terrified. It was how she dealt. He was kind of rattled
himself. They were up against the Big Four. The Horsemen of The Apocalypse.
How did one fight something like that? He didn’t think it was possible. Death sat on his pale horse. Both horse and
its rider were motionless. All eyes were on the slayer and the vampire. Buffy broke the silence. “Where’s his
scythe then? I have a scythe.” She shook it at the Horsemen sitting atop
their mounts. “Buffy…” “What? My scythe against whatever he
carries.” Buffy made sure her voice rang out. She wanted a reaction, any
reaction to her words. There were none. The Horsemen sat
motionless. “Which one is Famine then?” she said, a
little disappointed at the lack of response. “The one on the black horse.” Buffy furrowed her brow and squinted at
the being on the black horse. “He doesn’t look so scary. What’s with the
thingamajig? What’s that he’s got in his hand?” “A set of scales.” “To weigh up the lack of food? Come on!” Angel inclined his head towards the red
horse. “This is…” “Let me guess. War. The sword and the
redness kinda gave it away.” Buffy glanced at her weapon, its sleek and
deadly form a familiar and welcome weight in her hands. “That leaves only
Pestilence.” She eyed up the creature on the white horse. “So why can’t I see
worms and rotting flesh?” Angel couldn’t help but grin at her.
There was nowhere he’d rather be than to be at Buffy’s side when doing
battle. “Pestilence was a name given to the
First Horseman. But it’s incorrect. Conquest is its name.” Buffy eyed up the Horseman’s bow, and
the crown it wore on its head. “Already victorious, I see.” Angel knew the
oddest things. “How do you know this stuff?” “It’s in the Bible.” “Oh. I guess I haven’t got to that bit
yet.” “It is at the end of the Book.” “If you say so.” Buffy huffed, and
straightened up. She felt her knees creak with the effort. “Did you just hear
my knees creak? I’m sure they creaked.” “You need to warm up,” he said with a
grin. “I think so too.” Buffy stretched out a
leg and then the other. When she was done, she put a hand on her hip and
called out to the silent Horsemen. “Oi! You lot! What are you waiting for?
Come and get us.” The one on the white horse, Conquest,
Angel had said, parted his otherworldly lips and spoke. “You cannot hope to
win against us. We’re the Four Horsemen. Nothing can stand in our way. We’re
here to do the Lord’s will.” Buffy blinked. “The Lord’s will? I don’t
think so. I don’t believe in a God that would condemn babies and children to
suffering and death.” “Buffy,” Angel whispered to her. “The
Lord has condemned babies and children to the blade on many occasions.” “According to the Bible. See, this is
why that Book is such hard going. All those thous and begetting, it’s enough
to drive a woman to sleep.” “Step aside and we will be on our way.” Angel moved so that he was standing a
little forward of Buffy. “I’m sorry but we can’t do that. You see, it’s
Buffy. When she gets a bee in her bonnet, nothing will persuade her to let it
go. And where she goes, so do I.” Buffy slid up against Angel and nudged
him with her hip. “I’m not the weak blonde in a movie.” Angel flashed Buffy a smile and stepped
back. “Sorry. You take the lead.” Buffy snagged his arm and pulled him to
her. “We do this together or not at all.” Worried that this was to be their last
few moments together, he said, “Not at all sounds good?” Turning to him, Buffy squeezed his arm.
“I know you don’t mean that.” With an aching heart, Buffy leaned up and
kissed him on the mouth. “We’ve beaten the odds before,” she whispered
against his lips, “we can do so again.” “Into the breach, beloved?” he whispered
back, kissing her hard. “You’re sounding like Giles,” she
countered when she got her breath back, and she kissed him again. “Are you two quite finished?” a voice
said. Death had spoken, its voice an empty place, a void that threatened to
overwhelm and devour. Buffy’s flesh crawled, and she resisted the urge to
shudder. She refused to let the enemy see how intimidated she felt. “In a minute,” she called with false
bravado. She stared up at Angel. He was looking at her, the tiniest smile
tugging at his lips. She loved him so much. It wasn’t fair. She wanted more.
She wasn’t ready to die again. “I love you,” she said with a lump in
her throat. “I love you,” he said, and winked. She blinked. What? Buffy’s confusion
lasted a mere moment. If Angel had something in mind then she would go along
with it. He had obviously noticed something she hadn’t. Her slayer instincts
were good, but his preternatural senses were better. Stepping back and
raising her scythe again, Buffy readied herself for the fight to come. “Here’s the thing,” Angel said quite
conversationally. He had been hanging around her too long, Buffy thought.
“The trumpets of heaven haven’t sounded. An angel was supposed to herald in
the apocalypse: the world isn’t trembling, and portents haven’t been seen.”
Angel cocked his head, lifted his eyes as if gazing into memory. “I’ve had
the sky raining fire, the sun going out, and the world remains intact.” His
eyes shifted back to the beings sitting on their steeds. “So what I’m
thinking is that you’re not the real deal. You’re not here to do the Lord’s
bidding…” Buffy looked skywards to see if a bolt of lightning was coming down
to smite them because of his words… “You’re something else.” Buffy knew Angel was preparing to launch
an attack. She was keenly aware of his body language. The grip on his sword
was firm. The look in his eyes was fierce. When he leapt forward she was
right there beside him. What seemed like an eternity later,
Buffy let the scythe fall to the ground. She was sitting on blood-soaked
dirt, caked with gore, and she didn’t care a jot about what she looked like,
or that her clothes were ruined. She was beyond tired, she was exhausted. She
closed her eyes. Blessed silence. Angel stood, surveying the carnage. Some
of the blood on the ground was his. A little was Buffy’s. Angel’s jaw was
clenched. Buffy’s bleeding had stopped, her wounds were healing beneath
make-shift bandages, but the smell of her blood was a tantalizing reason to
let his demon loose. He resisted, as he always did. And as he always did, he
worried that one day his resistance would crumble and the beast would out. Under his boot, the ground squelched wet
and bloody with the remains of what had tried to pass as the Four Horsemen.
The demons lay scattered about, limbs severed from torsos, heads separated
from necks. Also severed was the charm, the glamour that had hidden their
true form. What had been horses were shown to be the lower appendages of the
demons. Angel grimaced. He liked horses and hadn’t wanted to harm any. His
wish had been granted. He kicked at demon flesh. “Where did they come from? Why the
elaborate ruse?” Buffy asked suddenly. Angel stared out into the night. The
lights of the city twinkled a long way off. It was a reminder that they lived
in modern times and not in a fairy tale. “Your guess is as good as mine, Buffy.
Were they sent after us, specifically? If so, who is behind it?” “And why now? Maybe we’re a threat to
whoever it is? What sort of cases have you been working on lately? Perhaps
you’ve stirred something up that wants to remain hidden.” Buffy got her feet under her, and with a
huge effort, managed to stand. She stepped around body parts to come up
beside him. Catching hold of his arm, she wound it round her and she snuggled
against his side. She felt him shrug. “So what’s new? We’re always in danger.
It’s what we do. Trouble finds us…” “And we kick its ass,” she finished for
him. He pulled her in tight and planted a
kiss on her head. “We kick its ass.” The end July 2011 Author note: An interesting Wikipedia
article on the Four Horsemen. Note that the pale horse is the colour
of a pale green. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Horsemen_of_the_Apocalypse
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