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Quickened by P.H. Wise

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~Hitotsu, hitoyo no koi naraba
Futatsu, futari de jigoku he to
Mittsu, mina no koroshitemo
Yottsu, yomi he no michi-shirube
Yottsu, yomi he no michi-shirube
Itsutsu, ikusa no chi no ame no
Muttsu, mukuro to kawarya senu
Nanatsu, namida no kare hate te
Yattsu, yami yo ga tokete yuku
Yattsu, yami yo ga tokete yuku~

---------------------------------

Marcus Travers stood before the assembled Watchers. Two dozen all told, men and women, varying in age from teenagers to elderly, they were all that was left. All that survived the culling of the First. All that still held to the grand mission – to put an end to the Gathering by killing every last Immortal, one, by one. They had made their base of operations in an abandoned warehouse, all filled with dust and industrial tools. And now filled with computers, electronics, and weapons.

They stood assembled before him, fire in their eyes, each of them willing to die for the cause. They were going to save the world.

He was short, respectably handsome, clad all in tweed, and his eyes peered into the distance as though he could see far beyond the pale. His were the eyes of a visionary. With solempne solemnity, Marcus Travers spoke. “Those fools who believed in non-interference... that we should observe and record, but never intervene... are dead. Destroyed by the agents of the First Evil.

“And many good men and women are dead as well. My father... is dead. And now, in our hour of greatest darkness, the Slayer has become one of Them. Even worse, the Slayer line in its entirety... is lost to us.” He shook his head. “Our mystics have just confirmed... there are no more potentials. Anywhere.”

A shocked murmur went through the gathered group.

“In this, our most desperate hour, we no longer have the Slayer, the instrument by which we have waged our long war against the night. But that doesn’t mean that all is lost.”

He looked out over the gathering as a King upon his loyal subjects.

“It’s time for us to step in. We’ve been taking an active role with the Immortals for some time, but now, there is a far more dangerous threat. Buffy Summers, the Immortal Slayer. Not only is she the greatest threat to humanity this world has ever seen, but even worse, she’s raising an army. We have confirmed reports of FIVE Slayers in her control, not counting herself. We don’t know how that happened. But a group of five Slayers, plus a large number of humans working alongside the Immortal Slayer is an imbalance the likes of which the Game has never seen.

“This... THING in human form needs to be put down. Put down like the monster she is. For the good of all humanity.”

Nods and murmured agreement all around.

“My fellow Watchers. This... will be our finest hour.

“For too long, we’ve sat on the sidelines, ‘watching,’ while the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness run rampant.

“For too long, we’ve been dependant on the Slayer line. It’s time to stand on our own. It’s time to take responsibility for our mistakes.”

Marcus Travers, son of Quentin Travers, smiled grimly. “My friends, it’s time to save the world.”

------------------------------------

Quickened
by P.H. Wise
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 10: Come Undone

Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy. I don’t own Angel. I don’t own Highlander. Please don’t sue me. I’m only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

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~One... if two people are in love,
Two... both of them to hell will go,
Three... even if they kill everyone,
Four... a signpost to hell they will find,
Four... a signpost to hell they will find,
Five... a rain of blood follows where they go,
Six... purified and changed,
Tears have all dried up~

(1)

-------------------------------------

“Bring them before me,” she said, her voice cold and imperious. She sat upon a throne of black marble. Not the most comfortable seat, perhaps, but she was beyond such concerns. All around her, the adoring crowd groveled, and praised, and petitioned. Hundreds of thousands. Millions. All for her. As far as the eye could see.

Her Turok-Han brought forth the prisoners, Slayers both, one light, the other dark. They were mirror images of each other, and tonight, their blood would flow like wine. They didn’t go easily. No, they fought. They kicked, they bit, clawed, anything to delay the inevitable. But what they didn’t do was plead for mercy. That impressed her, somewhat. Well, that and the fact that twelve Turok-Han had difficulty chaining them to the altar. But chained they were.

They raged against their bonds, struggling, fighting, trying to break free. Trying to escape. To no avail. She stood and approached them, and the train of her robes stretched out behind her.

The fair Slayer met her gaze, and there was love in her eyes mixed with fear. “Dawnie,” she said, “Don’t do this. There has to be some part of you in there that knows that this is wrong.”

Dawn laughed. “Dawn doesn’t live here anymore. When will you get that through your thick skull?” She motioned for her high priest to begin. He stepped forward.

The Master.

The Master brandished the ceremonial dagger, and looked down at the two Slayers bound to the altar with an expression vaguely akin to pity. “There, there. Don’t cry.” A vicious smile spread across his face. “It won’t make any difference.”

“Dawnie, please, don’t do this!” the fair Slayer said once more, desperation in her eyes. “Dawnie, I love you! PLEASE!”

The dagger came down, and buried itself in Buffy’s chest. She gasped once... and died. Even as the dagger pierced Buffy’s heart, a matching wound opened on Faith. Their blood flowed out from their wound, filling the basin beneath the altar.

Despite her mortal wound, Faith struggled for life. “Not... like... this...” she gasped.

As the light faded from her eyes, the last thing Faith saw was Dawn Summers dipping a chalice into the basin full of the blood of the two Slayers, and drinking deeply.

And as she drank, the last threads of her humanity fell away. Her human form blew away like dust, and she found Herself beneath. Unimaginable. Blapshemous. Malignant. The crowd went into a frenzy at the sight of her, and began tearing into each other like beasts. All the degenerate horrors, all the unspeakable injustices that humans could inflict upon one another were carried out within the crowd; a roiling mass of blood and flesh, sweat and filth.

Dawn awoke calmly in her bed at the hotel. The room was filled with green light, even as she herself was filled with a sense of godlike satisfaction, and a sense of the rightness of such a sacrifice. Was it not her due? Was she not Yog-Sothoth? ... And then humanity came rushing in, and with it, horror and revulsion. The green light faded away, and she curled up into a ball, and began to weep.

A few minutes later, Dawn sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes still red with tears. Buffy sat next to her, holding her in a comforting embrace as Faith paced back and forth in front of the television.

“Dawnie,” said Buffy, trying to put as much confidence into her voice as she could, “We’re going to find out what’s going on. We’re going to find out why you’re having these nightmares, and we’re going to put a stop to it.”

“How?” Dawn asked. “How are we going to stop it? Pick up a copy of ‘Dream Magic For Dummies?’”

“She’s got a point, B.”

Buffy smiled wryly. “It shouldn’t be too hard. I know a guy who knows a guy.”

-------------------------------

The demon side of town was unpleasant on the best of days. Yeah, fancy that, Rome, once the capital of the Holy Roman Empire, now sporting a ‘demon side of town.’ You’ve heard the thing about God and her wacky sense of humor? Not to mention her obsession with Skiball. Yeah. Unpleasant or not, the demon side of town was where Duncan took her. Buffy did her best to refrain from killing the Grox’lar Beast they encountered in the street on the way there. The last thing she needed was to draw attention here. Unfortunately, her best wasn’t good enough, and the baby-eating monster was soon lying in several pieces scattered across the street. Score one for the good guys. Or gals, as the case may be. The crowds thinned a bit after that. Still, Buffy and Duncan continued on, wending their way through the streets and alleys until they finally arrived at the entrance to a rather out of place seeming upscale club.

The club had the works. Glittering lights. Pounding music. A very surly demon bouncer. A long line of hopefuls waiting to be admitted.

“This the place?” Buffy asked.

Duncan nodded. “This is what he calls home. Are you ready for this?”

Buffy smiled faintly. “You know me...” she trailed off. “Well, except that you kind of don’t.” She shrugged. “Not really, anyways. But that’s beside the point! Yes, I’m ready.”

Duncan gave her a look, then, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or not. After a moment, he gave it a mental shrug and pointed her towards the bouncer. “After you.”

Buffy approached the bouncer without hesitation, completely ignoring the endless line waiting to get into the club.

The demon bouncer gave her a quick once-over. “Nomare?” he asked. It took Buffy a moment to translate that from her knowledge of Italian gleaned from the ‘Italian for Dummies’ book that she had purchased.

“Slayer,” she said, after a long moment.

He checked his list. “Summers?”

Buffy nodded.

The demon bouncer smiled cheerfully, and said, in heavily accented English, “Go a-right on in.”

Buffy went inside, and Duncan moved to follow... only to be stopped by the bouncer.

“Nomare?” the demon asked. (2)

Duncan blinked. “I’m with her.”

“Nomare?”

“... MacLeod. Duncan.”

The demon checked his list, and then shook his head. “Not on the list.”

Duncan frowned.

------------------------------

Buffy made her way slowly through the club, steering clear of the various human and demon patrons. She barely noticed the decorations as she went, her stride filled with a singular purpose. In the back of her mind, she felt the familiar crawling pressure that signaled the presence of another Immortal.

There.

He was sitting at a table set for two. The lights around him were dimmed, and the candles on the table filled the space around it with a soft, enchanted glow. And then she saw the Immortal... and blinked.

Tight black pants.
Loose long sleeved shirt.
Dark brown hair.
Skinny.
Eyes like chips of ice.
Watcher’s tattoo on his wrist.

“YOU!” Buffy exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with recognition as she pointed an accusing finger at the man.

The Immortal raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Buffy stood there for a moment... and then embarrassment washed over her. She felt a fool. Quickly, she sat down in the chair, her face gone beet red.

The Immortal smiled. “Nice to see you again, Miss Summers.”

Buffy recovered quickly. “Do you have a name, this time, or should I just call you ‘The Immortal?’”

“Call me Adam.”

Buffy nodded. “Adam it is, then.”

A waiter approached, poured Buffy a glass of wine, and placed a bottle of beer in front of Adam before departing. Adam quickly took a sip of the beer.

“So, have you gotten yourself a sword yet?”

Buffy smiled wryly. “Not quite.” She held out her hand, and the Scythe faded into existence. She held it up for his inspection.

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

Buffy nodded. “Carrying it around everywhere isn’t practical, but a Witchy friend of mine found a spell that would let me summon it at will. So it’s sort of like a pager...” her voice lost some of its confidence. “... If pagers summoned mystical Scythes instead of just beeping.”

Adam nodded faintly, not really seeing the connection. “... Right.”

Buffy dismissed the Scythe with the wave of her hand. As it faded away, she looked closely at Adam. “So what’s your story?”

“I’m very old, and very wise.”

Buffy nodded. “And very humble.”

Adam shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“How do you get away with all of this? Going by ‘the Immortal,’ and your total rockstar-ness in the demon world. Why haven’t other Immortals killed you if you’re making waves this big? But if what Duncan says is true, you’re all myth-boy in the Immortal world.”

“How much did he tell you about me?”

Buffy smiled faintly. “Enough to know that your real name isn’t Adam.”

Adam shook his head. “He always did have a weakness for a pretty face.”

“So how do you do it?”

Methos shrugged. “People who look for Methos are looking for a great warrior, or a philosopher, maybe a seer, or a mystic. I’m just a guy. And as for the rest... it’s kind of like grapefruit and milk. You have your demon world, and you have your immortal world, and never the twain shall meet. Most Immortals are as clueless about the forces of darkness as your typical person, and most demons, even if they heard about the Immortals, wouldn’t care.

“And yet here’s you with the rock-starness?”

Methos smiled his somehow innocently knowing smile. “Sometimes the best place to hide is right out in the open.”

Buffy shrugged. He had a point.

“Let’s get down to business, Miss Summers.”

Buffy was visibly relieved. No more small talk. “Dream magic,” she said immediately. “Unspeakably old things made human. What do you know about it?”

Methos blinked. “What?” he asked, caught off guard by the sudden an unexpected topic.

“Or a Seer! Do you know any seers?”

“I thought you wanted to know the vampire situation in town?”

“I do, but this is a bit more important.”

“More important than the end of the world?”

Buffy nodded.

Methos shrugged. “Alright. I’m game. I know a Seer – an old Gypsy woman. She lives about an hour’s drive out of town without traffic.” He wrote the address down on a napkin and handed it to Buffy. “Care to tell me what’s so important about finding a seer, or someone who knows dream-magic, or really really old things in human form?” he smiled at that last.

Buffy ignored him, immediately flipping out her cell phone and relaying to Faith the information she had just received.

#I’m on it, B.# came the Dark Slayer’s voice through the phone.

“Tell Dawn I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m not done here yet. The Immortal says that there’s something Apocalypse-ish going down.”

She could ALMOST see Faith’s grin. #When you gotta save the world, you gotta save the world. No worries. I’ll take care of the half-pint.#

At that, Buffy shut the phone, and met the Immortal’s gaze evenly. “So... about the vampire Alisoun...”

Methos pouted. “Well, I was gonna be all dramatic about it, but I think you killed any chance that had of working.”

Buffy gave him a very un-amused look.

“Right. One of the major players in the raising of the Eater of Souls is rising tonight...”

-----------------------------------

“Well,” said Methos as he pushed open the door of the ancient crypt. “Here we are.”

Buffy peered inside. It was dank, and filled with the smell of old decay – brittle bones and corpse-dust. “It’s kind of homey,” she said, using her best ‘dumb blonde’ voice.

Methos raised an eyebrow.

“What? I’m not saying I’d like to build a condo here, but as crypts go, it’s not bad.”

He shook his head, muttering something about crazy blondes. He glanced within the crypt, then at Buffy, and then began walking back the way he had come. “Right then. Have fun!”

Buffy frowned. “What, you aren’t coming?”

“Interrupting demonic blood sacrifices and summoning rituals? Not how I survived for five thousand years.”

The Slayer’s eyes narrowed slightly at that. As she descended into the crypt alone, she took the mental tally. He was cute, yes. He was smart, yes. He was funny, sure. But apparently, he was not the type to risk life and limb for another. Not a champion.

What a shame.

She strode past coffins, cobwebs, and tomb dust, and opened the door on the far side of the crypt. It opened into a seemingly endless stairway, spiraling endlessly down into blackness. The demons were down there. She could almost smell them.

As the predatory urges of the Slayer washed over her, Buffy Summers crossed the threshold, and began the long, arduous descent into the pit.

-----------------------------------------

It took them more than an hour to get there, but get there they did. It was a small wooden home, weathered but sturdy, in the midst of a tiny village of similar homes. There was no electricity here, and it was cold, but warm firelight flickered through the window.

The Dark Slayer rapped three times on the hard wood of the door.

“Come in, come in!” the old woman called. She spoke in lightly accented English.

Faith opened the cabin’s weathered front door and stepped inside, with Dawn close behind.

It was a dingy place, full of gathered dust and faded memories. A family had once lived here, but no longer. Not for a long time. There, sitting before a small wooden table, was the old woman they had come to see. The Gypsy Seer that the Immortal had recommended.

Old, yes, and withered, with the sorrowful eyes of one who has buried many children.

“The Immortal said that you could help us?”

The old woman smiled faintly. “The Immortal was correct.” She turned towards Dawn, who was still hiding behind Faith. “You needn’t fear, dearie. You can call me Zerlina. And though I am weary, I will help you.”

Dawn stepped out from behind Faith. “Why?” she asked.

“Because you knew my daughter, Yana.” Zerlina’s smile faded, and sorrow crept back into her aged features. “Or at least, you remember Yana. False memories, but memories nonetheless.”

“Yana?”

“You knew her as Jenny Calendar.”

Dawn frowned. “How could you possibly know that I knew Miss Calendar...” she trailed off, and the Gypsy woman cackled. “Oh, right,” said Dawn. “My bad. Seer.”

Faith frowned. “So you gonna give us the what’s what?”

“Yes, yes. Patience.” Zerlina glanced at Dawn. “Well, take a seat and give me your palm, dearie. I won’t bite.”

--------------------------------

The chanting gave it away long before she actually arrived. The candles burning with blue flame were also a pretty big clue. There were six vampires, all standing in a circle around a large, red, glowing pentagram. In the center of the pentagram stood an altar, on which a human child lay dead, his blood seeped out into the basin below.

A seventh vampire stepped forward and threw off her cloak.

Alisoun.

“Receive our sacrifice, oh great one!” she called, holding a blue flamed candle above her head. “Come forth and bless us, child and guardian of the Gate and the Key!”

And from the blood of the innocent, it arose - a colossal and nameless blasphemy with glowing red eyes and bony claws. Dog faced, with pointed ears, a flat nose, drooling lips, scaly claws, half-hooved feet, and a mould-caked body, it arose, howling and gibbering like a mad thing.

The vampires cheered, exultant in their successful summoning of this... blasphemy. Alisoun gave out an excited squeak and did a little hop in place and twirled around. “Did you see that, Bob?” she asked. “I raised the demon! We’re going to do this! It’s going to work!”

And then Buffy planted the business end of the Scythe in the back of the demon’s head. It collapsed to the ground in a twitching heap.

The vampires stared at the dead demon for several long moments. And then they saw Buffy.

“SLAYER...” Alisoun hissed, striding forward dangerously.

Buffy wrenched the scythe free from its place in the skull of the demon. “Alisoun.”

----------------------------

Dawn sat in the chair opposite of Zerlina and held out her palm. The old woman seized it with surprising strength, and yet also with great gentleness. Her hands were like sandpaper, and it was all Dawn could do not to pull away.

Slowly, ever so gently, Zerlina traced the lines of Dawn’s hand with the tip of her index finger. “Hmm,” she murmured. “No life line, but then, that’s no surprise. Lies and illusion, false memories, never really alive.”

Dawn’s face went pale at that. She tried to pull her hand away, but the old woman would not release her. With gentle strength, she continued her reading.

“Strong mental abilities, I see. Not bad. Not bad at all. But this... oh, child...”

“What?” Faith demanded, pushing forward to the table. “What’s wrong?”

The old woman’s grip went from gentle to savage in a heartbeat. Without a word, she drove her claw-like fingernail into the palm of Dawn’s hand. Dawn cried out in pain, and Faith gave an angry shout. Before any of them could act, however, they saw what, exactly, had come spilling out of the wound. And it wasn’t blood.

It was light.

“Such pretty green light,” Zerlina murmured. She released Dawn’s hand. “I’m sorry, dearie.”

Dawn stared down at her hand in horror. “What... is it?”

Faith stood motionless, unsure of how to react.

“Why, that’s you, dear.”

--------------------------------

Alisoun ducked underneath the swing of the Scythe. The vampire behind her wasn’t so fortunate. He was decapitated before he even knew what had hit him. As the dust settled, Alisoun sidestepped a stake attempt from the reverse end of the scythe, and grinned.

“I see you’ve got a new toy, Slayer.”

Buffy nodded, ducking to avoid the punch of one of the other vampires. “That’s right,” she said, staking a second vampire cultist. “It slices,” she jumped over a slash from a sword wielding vampire and split him from shoulder to sternum with the business end of the scythe. He looked down, stupefied, for a brief moment before turning to dust. “It dices,” She killed a fourth cultist. The other two fled, leaving their leader to face the leader alone. Buffy planted the stake end of the scythe in the ground. “It even makes julian fries...” she paused. “Julio fried? Jello frees? Whatever. It makes them.”

Alisoun circled Buffy warily, looking for an opening. The Slayer’s stance presented none.

“You have no idea how hard it was, Slayer. Leaving Sunnydale after I heard that you were still alive...” she spat on the ground. “I’m still interested in knowing how you survived what I did to you.”

Buffy pulled the scythe free from the ground and spun it in her hands. “Get used to disappointment.”

Simultaneously, Vampire and Immortal Slayer burst into motion...

---------------------------------

”I don’t understand.”

Zerlina sighed. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, child.”

Faith took a step forward. “Well don’t keep us in suspense here! What’s the news?”

Zerlina glanced towards Faith. Solemnly, she intoned. “The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be, not in the spaces we know, but between them. They walk serene and primal, undimensioned, and to us unseen. She knows the gate. She is the gate. She is the Key and the guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Her. She knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. She knows where They have trod earth’s fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as they tread. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where Words have been spoken and Rites howled through their Seasons. The wind gibbers with their voices and the earth mutters with their consciousness. She knows the gate. She is the gate. She is the Key.”

“What the HELL is that supposed to mean?” Faith demanded.

The old woman didn’t respond to Faith, but instead met Dawn’s gaze. “The spell that gave you human form is fading, child. They did not make you human to give you a human life,” she shook her head, “but only to keep you hidden from Glorificus.”

“What!?”

Tears began to leak from Dawn’s eyes. “Go on,” she said, ignoring Faith’s outraged protest.

A sad smile settled onto Zerlina’s face as she continued. “Your humanity will fade, child, and only the Key will remain. You can expect several months of horrific nightmares, but the more time passes, the less you’ll see it as horrific. When they no longer bother you, you’ll be lost. You can expect a resurgence of your power, but with your original memories returning to you, that may not be a good thing.” She looked upon Dawn, a sad smile on her face, and pity in her eyes. “I am sorry, child.”

“WHAT!?”

The old woman glanced at Faith and said nothing.

“No. This is NOT the way it goes down. There HAS to be a way to stop this.”

“There is, dearie,” Zerlina said, although her expression did not change. “You can kill her now, and she’ll die human. She might thank you for it.”

Dawn wept.

--------------------------------

Buffy shook her head incredulously. “Five minutes against Buffy plus the Scythe, and you’re not dead? What are you, Mighty Vamp? Not even the Ubervamps gave me this much trouble.”

Alisoun grinned ferally, blood leaking from her many wounds. “What can I say?” she ducked under a swing of the Scythe and delivered a devastating punch to Buffy’s nose. “I’m just special. Chosen, you might say.” The damage to Buffy’s nose healed visibly before her eyes, and Alisoun frowned.

Buffy’s eyes went wide. “... Slayer...?”

“I’d love to play with you some more, Buffy, really I would, but I have things to do, people to kill, demons to raise.”

The Vampiric Slayer leaped back out of the range of the Scythe. “I really am impressed with the new toy, though.”

And with that, she turned and ran for her life. Not that she’d ever call it such. Buffy pursued her, but Alisoun held the advantage here – she had had over a year to learn the tunnels beneath the city.

At length, the Slayer gave up the search, and returned to the surface world.

---------
Later...
---------

Buffy’s anger THUNDERED through the hotel room. “WHAT!?”

Faith shook her head sadly. “I wish we had better news, B.”

She had returned from the Slayage only to find a very broken Dawn and a heartbroken Faith waiting for her in the hotel room, and she was NOT pleased by the news that they had brought from the Seer.

Dawn spoke, and her voice was hollow. “It’s all right, Buffy. You shouldn’t worry. Once the spell that put me here is faded, you won’t ever remember that you had a sister named Dawn.”

With angry tears in her eyes, Buffy turned to face Dawn. “Dawn, how can you say something like that?” she asked. “Do you WANT to go back to being some ancient, unknowable monster?”

“It doesn’t matter. What I want doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything.”

“What about Willow?” Buffy said, desperation entering her voice. “She could do a spell...”

“We can try it,” Faith ventured, “But... this is seriously dark mojo we’re dealing with here. I’m no Witch, B, but I’ve learned a thing or two about magic. Enough to know that the kind of spell you’re talking about would need dark power of the primordial kind...”

Distantly, Buffy heard the voice of Lorne, Angel’s demon friend. “Little sis isn’t going to be little for much longer, sugar-puff. There’s some seriously dark mystical mojo going on there, and if she doesn’t make it through, the rest of the world won’t be far behind.”

Buffy shook her head, her fist clenched. “I can’t accept this. There HAS to be some way we can... I don’t know... fix the spell? Make it so Dawn won’t die?”

“Well then,” called an unfamiliar voice, “This is your lucky day, Slayer.”

Lilah Morgan walked through the open door of the hotel room.

She smiled. “Because there is.”

END CHAPTER 10

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1 – this song is from ‘Youma – Curse of the Undead’
2 – I don’t speak Italian. This is the word my Italian/English dictionary spat out.

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