Fred shuddered. Her fever had abated, but she was still very, very weak, her long, brown hair clinging to her sweat-streaked face. “Why did we go there?” she asked desperately. “Why did we think we could beat it? It's evil, Wesley. It's bigger than anything.”
Wesley leaned in close. “I don’t believe that.”
She backed up towards the headboard of her bed, panicked. “Uggh...!” She pointed at Wes, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I’m with him!” She began to cry. “He won’t leave me now. We’re so close.”
Wesley met her panicked gaze. “I will never leave you.”
Fred panted for breath, and then seemed to recover. “That was bad, but it’s better now. You won’t leave me?”
He kneeled in front of her. “I won’t.”
“My boys. I walk with heroes. Think about that.”
Wesley visibly struggled to hold himself together, but he couldn’t quite stop his tears. “You are one.”
“Superhero. And this is my power: to not let them take me. Not me.”
Wesley sat down beside her and wrapped her up in his embrace. “That’s right.”
Fred laced her fingers through his. “That’s right. He’s with me.”
A horrible not-silence hung between them for a moment as Fred struggled for breath.
“Will you kiss me?” she asked.
Wesley kissed her, tender and passionate in equal measure. After a moment, Fred pulled away.
“Would you have loved me?”
Wesley nodded. “I've loved you since I've known you. No, that's not—I think maybe even before.”
Fred leaned her forehead against his. “I'm so sorry.”
“No,” he said tenderly, “no, no.”
Fred choked on her coughs; tears flowing freely down her face. She recovered after a moment, but was not as strong afterwards. “I need you to talk to my parents. They have to know I wasn't scared, that it was quick. That I wasn't scared.” She began to convulse. “Oh, God...”
Wesley grabbed her by the arms, looking straight into her eyes. “You have to fight. You don't have to talk, just concentrate on fighting. Just hold on.”
Fred looked into his eyes, and her body quivered uncontrollably. “I'm not scared. I'm not scared. I'm not scared,” she insisted, her frightened tone belying her words. After a few moments, her grip softened, and she sank into his arms.
Weakly, she spoke. “Please, Wesley, why can't I stay?”
Her body went still in Wesley’s arms.
Wesley looked down at her limp body, sorrow twisting in his heart. “Please...” he said, his voice filled with desperation. He hugged her tightly to himself, and then said, more softly, but filled with no less desperate longing than before, “... please...”
A change began to flow over Fred’s body. Her eyes hardened, and blue streaks began to spread across her body. She kicked her body away from Wesley, sending him across the room, and pushing her to the floor.
Wesley watched in horror as Fred’s body convulsed. Watched in horror as the woman he loved more than life itself, died.
The transformation complete, Illyria rose to her feet. Lizard-like, she examined her hand, flexing and unflexing her fingers.
“This will do.”
---------------------------------------
~One is the loneliest number
That you’ll ever do~
Faith stood alone in the shower, watching the blood from her injuries washing off and swirling down the drain, red on the white tile. Funny how much mortal injuries hurt, even if they didn’t actually kill you. So much like another shower, washing away other injuries. “It’s the Other Slayer.” “It feels like it’s mine...! I guess that must mean it’s yours.”
She’d always been in Buffy’s shadow, but this... this... hell no. HELL no.
~Two can be as bad as one
It’s the loneliest number since the number one~
Willow and Kennedy lay in each other’s arms. Kennedy slept, but Willow stared blankly at the wall, sadness etched into her eyes. The sheets rustled as she climbed out of bed and went to prepare herself for the new day. Alone now in the bed, Kennedy shivered in her sleep.
~No is the saddest experience
You’ll ever know~
Methos sat on the edge of his bed, Alexa asleep at his side. The amulet that sealed his memories away lay discarded at the foot of the bed. He knew that all of this was a lie. He knew that Alexa was dead, and that the woman sleeping beside him was not she.
But she looked like her.
Smelled like her.
Tasted like her.
Acted like her.
He knew it was a lie, even as he knew that this was not the way his prison was supposed to be - he had made this lie manifest. But oh, to believe the lie. To let himself believe that it really was her beside him. To let himself believe that the thing he wanted most in all the world – a family – was really his. To let himself be happy...
As he sat there in the darkness, looking down at the sleeping form of his wife, he couldn’t hide the haunted look in his eyes.
~Yes, it’s the saddest experience
You’ll ever know~
Wesley sank to his knees. The woman he loved was dead, and his heart had died with her.
He knew it was hopeless. He knew that she was gone. And yet he couldn’t quite quash the hope that rose up desperately within him. “Fred?” he asked.
Illyria walked past Wesley, ignoring him as she moved to stand in front of the mirror. She looked upon her new body with great interest.
Wesley’s last feeble hope crumbled to dust. In a voice utterly broken, he asked again, “Illyria?”
The Thing that had killed her, the Thing that had stolen her body, cocked HER head in a lizard-like parody of human movement and looked at him. “My name...” she said.
~’Cause one is the loneliest number
That you’ll ever do~
A pair of hands reached around her and clasped around her waist, and she covered them with hers. She looked back at Angel, who leaned his head over her shoulder. She brushed her hand against his cheek.
“How did you find me here?”
Angel smiled. “If I were blind, I would see you.”
Buffy took his hand in hers and closed her eyes, content in his embrace. “Stay with me,” she whispered.
“Forever. That’s the whole point.”
Buffy frowned. “Forever...”
Angel nodded.
“But I’ll grow old. I’ll die.”
Angel half smiled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Angel turned her gently to face him.
“The gypsy curse...”
*FLASH*
In one brutal movement, Angelus twists Jenny Calendar’s head and snapped her neck. Her body collapsed to the floor.
*FLASH*
Angel nodded. “Can’t forget about that, can we?”
“One moment of...” Buffy began.
Angel silenced her with a kiss. “Perfect,” he murmured. He kissed her again, and more passionately, “Happiness.”
Buffy woke suddenly, looking around in confusion. “Angel?” she asked.
~One is the loneliest number,
So much worse than two~
Angel awoke in his bed at Wolfram and Hart, looking confused. He looked around, and then called out to the darkness of the room, “Buffy?”
The darkness didn’t answer.
------------------------------
Quickened
by P.H. Wise
A Buffy crossover fanfic
Chapter 15: Tumbling Down
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. I also don’t own ‘One Is The Loneliest Number’ – that would be by Three Dog Night.
-------------------------------
Dawn sat at the very table that the new Watcher’s Council had held its meeting not too long ago, now repaired thanks to the efforts of a certain carpenter. The table was covered with books, and the room was cold. She’d brought a blanket out and wrapped it around herself like a cloak to stave off the chill of the room. She wore pajamas, and fuzzy bunny slippers graced her feet.
She had borrowed the book on Eater of Souls from the Vatican (the monk in charge of the archives had been quite grouchy about it), and was now attempting to cross-reference it – to discover the meaning of a prominent symbol in the book: a circle of black thorns. So far, she wasn’t having much luck.
“Are you still up?” Giles asked absently as he walked into the room, holding a steaming cup of tea.
Zombie-like, Dawn stared at the pages in front of her. “Can’t talk. Have to find out what this circle of black thorns is.”
Giles cocked his head to the side. “A circle of black thorns?”
Dawn pointed to the symbol, and Giles came over to look at it.
“Do you know what it means?” Dawn asked.
For a long moment, he stared at the symbol. There was a feeling of power, there, and of great darkness. It tugged at the edges of his memory, but when he pursued the feeling, he found nothing. Giles shook his head. “No.”
Dawn nodded. “Some of the girls have seen it in their dreams. Whatever it is, it’s evil.”
Giles sipped his tea and sat down beside her. “Of course.” He glanced at the other books on the table. “What else have you found?”
“Plenty more annoyingly vague prophecy. Some Apocalyptic Signs that’ll be associated with the awakening of Eater of Souls. That sort of thing.”
Giles nodded.
They worked together for the next hour, checking and rechecking the symbol against various books of forgotten lore. And then, Dawn came across the symbol in another book. “Ooooh! I found it! Giles, look! It’s called the Circle of the Black Thorn!”
Giles nodded, feeling very proud of his young Watcher-In-Training. “Is it?” he asked, “I don’t think I ever would have guessed that a circle of black thorns would have been called such a thing.”
Dawn laughed. And then her laughter faded as she stared at the page. Beneath the illustration of the circle of the Black Thorn was an illustration of the covers of three books that the writer drew his information from.
Giles looked down at the illustrations. “Wolf,” he said, looking at the first. “Ram.” That was the second. “Hart.” The third.
Dawn and Giles exchanged glances.
------------------------------
“You’re about to tell me that you’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question. Joe had caught up to Buffy just as she was about to sit down for lunch. They were in the hallway just outside of the dining commons, and most of the others were already inside, eating.
Joe nodded. “Yeah. You remember Adam, right?”
“I remember.”
“He was kidnapped. Taken to LA. MacLeod and I are going to go get him back before whoever took him can convince him to take up his old job again.”
“His old job?”
“You know the four horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “... THE four horsemen?”
Joe nodded.
“What do you want me to do?”
Joe shook his head. “Nothing. Mac and I will handle it.”
“And the renegade watchers?” Buffy asked.
“Turns out they were drawing their funds from a few secret accounts linked to the old Watcher’s Council. I’ve stopped their access to those accounts. Without funding, if they continue their operations as they have been, they’ll be unable to continue their operations as they have been.”
“You realize that won’t stop them, right?”
Joe nodded.
Buffy thought about it for a moment. “... Go.”
Joe didn’t need to be told twice. He turned, and hobbled away, calling over his shoulder, “You take care of yourself, Summers.”
Even as Joe departed, a very flustered Dawn came rushing up to her sister.
Buffy quirked an eyebrow. “Am I gonna get to eat SOMETIME this century?” She stepped into the dining commons.
Dawn gave her sister a dirty look as she followed her through the door. “We need to talk about Eater of Souls, Buffy.”
The door closed behind them, cutting off the sound of their conversation. And Joe hobbled away.
------------------------
“So spill,” said Buffy as she sat down at the table where Xander, Andrew, and several others were already busily eating. Willow and Kennedy were conspicuously absent, their places empty.
“OK, the first thing is that Eater of Souls is, or was, a member of something called the Circle of the Black Thorn.”
“And that is, exactly?”
Dawn looked uncomfortable.
“You don’t know, do you.”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
Dawn nodded. “Yeah. He works for Wolfram and Hart.”
Buffy nodded. “I remember.”
Dawn raised an eyebrow.
“Back in Sunnydale, when we were first researching this, Will...” Buffy trailed off, her expression hardening.
Dawn sighed, her enthusiasm somewhat deflated by Buffy’s lukewarm response (and especially by the chill that came over Buffy’s demeanor at the mention of the redheaded Wicca). “Right. But the REALLY important thing is that the big Apocalyptic signs are due to begin very, very soon.”
Buffy gave Dawn a concerned look. “How soon?”
And that was when the earth began to shake, at first faintly, and then with growing violence.
Dawn grimaced. “About now.”
------------------------------
Outside, on the steps leading down to the entrance to the school, the shaking earth threw Joe Dawson off balance. He pitched over, flailing his arms in an effort to keep his balance. His false legs were not kind to him. Without the support of his cane, he fell.
Duncan stepped out of the shadow of one of the pillars, where he had been waiting for his friend, and caught him by the arm.
Joe gave the Highlander a grateful look. “I’m getting too old for this.”
Duncan smiled faintly. “You and me both.”
-----------------------------------
“What kind of signs are we talking about here, Dawn?” Buffy asked.”
The scoobies were all gathered ‘round the meeting table where Dawn had been doing her research earlier. This time, Willow and Kennedy WERE present, and Buffy was doing her best not to look at her friend.
Dawn looked to Giles, who gestured for her to go ahead.
“Mostly standard stuff.”
-----------------------------
Duncan and Joe wended their way through the endless Roman traffic, heedless of the vast flocks of birds wheeling overhead. Birds have more sense than humans, it seems. Even as the humans stood and stared, the birds were fleeing the city. Further up, clouds as black as pitch were gathering, and where their shadow lay, day became blackest night.
And the birds weren’t the only ones.
The sewer entrances were BOILING with rats, the vermin swarming up from below the city streets, desperate to escape from That Which Dwells Beneath, and there was not a cat or a dog to be seen anywhere.
People watched the curious behavior of the animals, remarking perhaps that animal control should be called, or perhaps simply marveling at it, and then going on with their lives.
Joe glanced at Duncan. “You ever get the feeling that you’re standing on the edge of the Apocalypse?”
Duncan spared Joe a quick glance, taking his attention off the road for a split second. He smiled ruefully. “Nah.”
----------------
“Animals fleeing the city. Blood raining from the sky. Possibly a plague of the walking dead.”
Giles opened his mouth to speak, but Dawn beat him to it. “Oh, and also various miscellaneous supernatural manifestations. You know. Hauntings. Bleeding walls. The release of a new Grateful Dead album. Unusually feisty vampires and demons. That kind of thing.”
Giles looked both proud and annoyed simultaneously.
--------------------------
“And we now go live to our correspondent in Rome.”
A reporter for CNN stood before the camera, with Roman streets clearly visible in the background. Much of the city was visibly damaged in the wake of the earthquake, and people were no longer ignoring the goings on – now, they were a part of it, rioting in the streets, looting. A man ran through the background wielding a sign that read, ‘Repent, for the End is Nigh!’ Further up the street, a thick fog was rolling slowly towards the reporter’s position.
“It’s chaos here in the Holy City in the wake of the earthquake, Bob. We’re getting widespread reports of looting and vandalism...”
The reporter continued speaking even as the fog rolled over him. He could still be seen, albeit dimly.
“... as well as freak weather patterns, including fog and unexpected thunderstorms...”
From off camera, there came a wet sort of shuffling sounds, and distant moaning.
------------------------
“How do we stop it?” Xander asked, a determined look on his face.
Giles fielded this one. “We can’t,” he said. “Not until we’ve pinpointed the source. Until then...”
Buffy nodded, now looking determined as well. “Right. Damage control.”
------------------------
The hanger door slid open slowly, left to right, and Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson stepped inside. Both of them were considerably worse for wear, Joe bleeding from several minor injuries, and Duncan with tears in his clothing around injuries that his Immortal healing had already dealt with. Joe blanched at the sight that greeted him in the center of the hanger. The Watcher’s Council’s private jet was there, yes, but that wasn’t what made Joe blanch.
Airport security.
Dead.
All of them.
They looked like they’d been... eaten. And some of them were not so much bodies as parts of bodies. A hand here, a foot there, a long coil of entrails across the way.
Joe grimaced. “What do ya think killed them?”
At the sound of his voice, wet, shuffling noises filled the hanger, accompanied by scores of dull moans.
And then the zombies began to emerge from the corners of the massive hanger.
Hundreds of them.
Duncan and Joe exchanged looks.
“Ah hell.”
-----------------
Several minutes later...
The report of Joe’s revolver rang out violently in the enclosed space of the hanger, and yet another walking corpse dropped to the ground, its functions terminated by a bullet to the brain. He stood at the top of a small boarding ramp next to the jet.
“GO! GO!” he yelled to Duncan, who was working furiously to get the plane ready for takeoff. The undead were pressing in close, and Joe was running out of bullets. Working as quickly as he could, he unlatched the ramp, hobbled into the plane, and pushed it away as hard as he could.
Seconds too late. Joe yelled in pain as a zombie bit a chunk out of his arm. The ramp carried the undead thing away from him, however, and he made short work of it with his pistol before shutting the hatch to the plane just as it began to roll away towards the hanger exit.
Hissing in pain, Joe put as much pressure on the injury as he could, and went to find a first aid kit before joining Duncan in the cockpit.
The jet lumbered through the crowd of zombies, crushing many, and shuddering violently as it squashed their undead bodies into the pavement. And then down the runway... and then the jet was airborne.
Joe breathed a sigh of relief as he wrapped his injury. His relief was short-lived, however, as a disturbing thought suddenly occurred to him. “God I hope this bite isn’t going to turn me into a zombie.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“How do you know?”
Duncan smiled faintly. “Because the alternative is unthinkable.”
Joe grinned at that, the memory of Methos coming sharply to mind in light of Duncan’s quotation. “So, if they’re not night of the Living Dead style zombies, what do you think, Evil Dead?”
Duncan laughed out loud. “Are we actually having a conversation about zombies?”
Joe nodded. “... Ya know, this sort of thing was a lot funnier before I knew it was all real. But anyways, since I’m not gonna be turning into a zombie any time soon, are you doing all right?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Well, Eater of Souls is waking up, and we’re leaving.”
Duncan shook his head. “The Slayers do their part, and we do ours.”
The jet soared away.
Beneath them, chaos reigned in Rome as the underworld came boiling to the surface. Vampires, demons, hordes of zombies, all poured into the streets as the black clouds spread and blocked out the sun.
And then the rain of blood began.
The Scoobies worked damage control as best they could, but they had little help. The Roman police force fell almost immediately before the monsters, and the Italian military only responded by putting the entire city under quarantine. Of the normal, human agencies, only the Vatican provided any effective resistance against the underworld. Where the weapons of man failed, the weapons of faith proved true. While all of Rome began to crumble around it, the Vatican City stood firm. For a while.
----------------------------
The next day...
The elevator door slid open, and out stepped Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson, into the upstairs lobby of Wolfram and Hart. Joe looked around for a moment, and then, spotting a blonde secretary sitting at a desk, just in front of a large set of double office doors.
Joe hobbled on over.
‘Harmony Kendall,’ the name plate on the desk read.
“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling prettily.
She had very tacky unicorn figurines on her desk.
Joe nodded. “Yeah. We’re here to see a ‘Mr. Angel,’ and the man at the reception desk downstairs said that he could be found on this floor.”
Harmony’s smile shifted several hues down the spectrum, coming to rest on ‘apologetic.’ “I’m sorry, but Angel is unavailable at the moment.”
At that moment, the double doors to Angel’s office exploded outwards, sending wooden splinters flying everywhere as Angel came tumbling out. The sword that the ensouled vampire had been clutching clattered to the floor. A large demon, all slime and chitonous armor plates, stepped through the remains of the door a few seconds later, looking majorly pissed off.
Angel grabbed his sword and rose to his feet. “Ok, NOW I’m mad!” he said. The beast roared threateningly, but for all its impressive posturing, a quick sword thrust upwards through the throat and into the beast’s brain brought it to a swift end.
Joe and Duncan looked on in shock.
“Harmony,” Angel began, “Can you get that cleaned up?”
Harmony smiled sunnily, acting for all the world as if this were a normal occurrence. “Sure thing, boss!” she chirped.
As Angel went back into his office, Harmony turned towards Joe and Duncan. “Wouldn’t you know it? His schedule was just freed up. I think Angel can see you now.”
Joe looked nonplused.
-------------------------
Back in Rome, Xander, Giles, and Willow were working over a series of city maps.
“So Wills, did the locater spell work?”
Willow shook her head, holding up the map she was working on. “It went all kablooie.”
Xander raised an eyebrow. “All kablooie?”
Willow indicated the map. “Well, it located Eater of Souls, but his aura is big enough that it kinda envelops the whole city.”
Giles raised his eyebrows. “Oh dear.”
“What?” Willow asked.
Giles pointed down to the main map that they’d been working from. “Well, you can see here that I’ve marked the locations of most of the major supernatural disturbances on the map...”
“Yegads!” Xander exclaimed.
The shape formed by the markings was the Circle of the Black Thorn. Within it, the Soul Eater rune, centered on the Vatican City.
“What?” Willow asked. “What does it mean?”
“Willow, we need as powerful a protection spell as you can possibly cast.”
“Centered on the Academy?”
Giles shook his head. “No. Centered on us. All of us. It’s my hope that we’ll be able to defeat Alisoun before she awakens Eater of Souls, but if we don’t... that spell may very well be the difference between life and a fate worse than death.”
Willow made a face.
“No pressure, Will,” Xander quipped.
------------------------
It was a nice office, all things considered. The desk was somewhat cluttered, though. A black mug with white lettering on it sat on the desk, full of some sort of steaming liquid. On the mug was written, ‘#1 Boss.’ Sitting behind the desk, filling out paperwork, was Captain Forehead himself – Angel.
He sat there at his desk, tall, dark, and brooding, and for a long moment, he didn’t look up. At length, he looked up and met their gazes, one after the other.
“Who are you, and why are you in my office?” he asked.
Duncan spoke. “I am Duncan MacLeod.” He gestured to Joe. “This is Joe Dawson. A friend of ours was kidnapped from my apartment in Rome, and we’ve got reason to believe that he was brought here.”
Angel frowned. “We don’t do kidnappings anymore.”
Duncan raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say ‘here to Wolfram and Hart.’”
“Oh. Right.”
“So, do you think you can help us?”
Angel shook his head. “Take it to the police, because I really don’t have time for this. I’ve got a business to run.”
Duncan furrowed his brows angrily. “The man who took him isn’t the kind of person the police can help us with.” He managed to school his features into an expression more befitting one asking for a favor.
”We don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Why come to me?”
Joe produced a small card from his pocket and placed it on Angel’s desk. On the card was written, ‘Angel Investigations. We help the helpless.’
Angel looked at the card for a long moment. And then he let out a long, low breath (despite the fact that he didn’t need to breathe).
“... I’ll do what I can.”
------------------------------
Buffy moved fearlessly through the night, the very image of a clueless young blonde. Her movements were carefully controlled to project the image of ‘helpless’ and ‘victim,’ all for one purpose: bait.
And it worked.
Vampires would come, looking for an easy mark, and she’d dust them before they even realized that there was something wrong. This tactic worked particularly well in the part of town she was in now – near the Immortal’s bar – where the demons lived who wanted nothing to do with the chaos that was sweeping the city. But even if the demons in this part of town were staying out of it, the vampires were not.
So far, she’d already reduced ten bloodsucking fiends to handfuls of dust.
It was the last one that gave her pause - an otherwise attractive young woman with an unfortunate 80’s hairstyle, wearing a black blouse and snakeskin miniskirt combination. She stepped out of a dark alleyway and moved directly for the Slayer, her face fully vamped out and ready to bite.
“Slayer, I bring a message from Lady Alisoun,” she said. She sounded like an annoyingly chipper soprano, and when she spoke, it was more like a high-pitched chirp than actual words.
Buffy cocked her head. “What?”
The vampire grinned. “You should keep a closer guard on what’s yours, Slayer.”
Buffy frowned.
“The Lady Alisoun bids me thank you for being so charitable in leaving your Key unguarded.”
Buffy’s eyes widened. “Dawn...!” She quickly summoned the scythe, and in a blur of motion, cut the vampire in half. Instant hoover-bait. She turned and ran for home.
She’d gotten about two blocks when the sound of automatic gunfire ripped through the night, and Buffy’s world vanished in a haze of blood and pain.
--------------------------
A few blocks away, Faith staggered. “What the hell...?” she muttered. She had just cleaned out a nest of demons, and no sooner had she returned to the street, when she’d felt this... this intense sense of Buffy’s presence, and a peculiar sort of tug, drawing her towards it. Immediately, she turned and ran towards where she sensed the imperiled Slayer.
Making full use of the increased running speed granted to her as a Slayer, Faith soon rounded the street corner several blocks away from her starting point, and beheld a group of eleven gunmen with automatic rifles all pointing their weapons at a very dead Buffy. But that wasn’t what concerned her. What concerned her was the swordsman who was even then raising the sword, about to bring it down on her exposed neck.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” she yelled as she charged the swordsman.
The eleven gunmen accompanying the swordsman turned smoothly and opened fire.
Pain thundered through her body, and she jerked wildly as the bullets tore through her flesh, yet still she came on, ignoring the pain, forcing her body to continue moving.
The sword came down.
Faith caught it by the blade, and it came within a hair’s-breadth of cutting her hands in half at the palm. Ignoring the pain, she twisted savagely, wrenching the blade out of the hands of its wielder – Marcus Travers. It clattered to the pavement. And then her will failed, and she collapsed, overwhelmed by the sheer physical trauma that her body had just taken.
Marcus looked upon Faith with respect. “Unbelievable,” he whispered. He shook his head, took up the sword once more, and turned towards Buffy.
Buffy was gone.
Marcus’ eyes widened, but by that point it was too late to do anything. Buffy had already made her move. Within seconds, Marcus and all of the gunmen were down, and all but Marcus were unconscious. At range, and with their weapons, they could take on a Slayer. Up close, they were just so many ducks all in a row.
The renegade watchers dealt with, Buffy hurried to her fallen Sister-Slayer’s side. “Faith...” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
Faith grinned, and it looked quite horrible with her mouth full of blood. “You look like shit, B,” she said.
Buffy laughed bitterly. “You don’t look too hot yourself,” she said, struggling with her tears.
“Ah hell, B, don’t waste any tears over me,” Faith struggled to sit up, and did so after a few moments. “I’ll be fine. Help me up already.”
Buffy stared at the dark slayer as if she’d sprouted a third eye. “How...?”
“I can’t die, B.”
After a few moments Buffy recovered from her shock over that statement sufficiently to help Faith to her feet, and then ask, “You’re an Immortal? But I thought...”
Marcus spoke then. “She’s not the Immortal, Miss Summers. That would be you.”
Buffy turned to face the renegade Watcher. “What?”
“She was an active Slayer when you were made Immortal, Miss Summers,” Marcus said, sounding utterly defeated. “You are linked, now. She will never know peace until you are dead.”
Faith shrugged, and then winced because it hurt to shrug, and then winced again because it hurt to wince. “Never was much one for peace.”
Buffy’s eyes widened in sudden remembrance. “We have to get back.”
Faith nodded. “What about them?”
Buffy gave the captive Watchers a quick glance, then looked to Faith. “Go. I’ll deal with them.”
Faith nodded, and then turned and ran for Slayer Central, now feeling a little bit better, as the blood loss had once again reduced her to a state of unfeeling physical numbness, and grateful that the bullets had not severed her spine, shattered her legs, or otherwise caused an injury that would have prevented her from walking.
Buffy gave Marcus a distasteful look. “Now what am I to do with you?” she asked.
Marcus shook his head. “Just kill me and be done with it.”
Buffy looked incredulous. “Apparently, you’re not familiar with what a Slayer is.”
Marcus laughed scornfully. “I haven’t forgotten what a Slayer is. But it seems you still haven’t learned what an Immortal is.” His expression softened slightly. “Maybe it’s better that you don’t.”
“Lemme guess. Fragment of some really old god named Osiris? Part of some really lame resurrection scheme, our souls being the kindling? Yeah, I got the 411.”
Marcus looked confused. “You know? But... never mind. If you know, then you know why you have to die.”
“No, I know why I have to live.”
“Miss Summers, Osiris was no god. Osiris was an Old One. No human should have that kind of power – to have an Old One walking the earth in this day and age, even within the body of a human would be extraordinarily bad, and we cannot risk the chance that the wielder of that power might one day turn upon humanity.”
Buffy shook her head. “Actually, it’s worse than that,” she said cheerfully. “In the end, there can be only one. And in the end, there will be only Osiris.” She snorted. “Some prize.”
Marcus’ eyes widened. “Then it’s imperative that...”
Buffy interrupted. “Shut up, Mr. Travers. Shut up and listen.”
Marcus fell silent, glaring up at Buffy.
“All that power you’re talking about? Having my body play host to some Old One? I want nothing to do with it.”
Marcus was silent for a long moment. “... What do you want, Miss Summers?”
“I want to live in peace with my sister and my friends. I want a normal life, with malls, shopping, shoes, and 2.5 children. But most of all, I want to save this world. In a little while, Eater of Souls is going to wake up. If my friends and I aren’t there to stop it, he’s going to destroy the world. Now, are you gonna help me, or am I going to have to make a more permanent solution to this problem?”
Marcus thought about that for a very long moment.
“... What can we do?”
Buffy smiled.
-----------------------------------
Buffy returned to Slayer Central with a sense of hope. The former renegade Watchers looked at her distrustfully, but they would abide by the decision of their leader. If this could work, maybe, just maybe... and then she saw the school, and her hope faded.
The gates had been blasted from their hinges, and Xander and Andrew were carrying a sheet down the steps towards it.
Towards the body.
A Slayer had died.
She lay there in a pool of blood, her body smashed, her beauty gone. Distantly, it occurred to Buffy that she didn’t know the girl’s name. And yet, in the dead girl’s eyes... that look of peace...
Andrew and Xander covered the body with their sheet, and the blood quickly soaked through it.
Xander gave Buffy a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Buff. They got Emily, and they took Dawn. It was over before we really knew what hit us... and Willow’s been hurt.” He paused. “And Faith staggered in half dead a few minutes ago, but she says she’ll be all right.”
Buffy felt pain welling up within her. The same pain she had felt every time someone under her command had died. This was the first dead Slayer since the day they activated them all, and for a moment, she felt a surge of fear. Would there be another to replace ... Emily. The name brought her back to earth, and her heart sank. “Gather everyone who can fight, Xander. They killed a Slayer today. We’re going to put a stop to this, once and for all.”
Marcus’ eyes widened. “... Slayer?” he asked.
Buffy nodded wearily. “Most of the girls here are Slayers, Mr. Travers. Dawn and Willow are the only ones who aren’t.”
Marcus’ face was the picture of total bafflement. “So the reason that the potentials have vanished is...”
“That they’re ALL Slayers now.”
Shocked murmuring began among the Watchers.
“Buffy, we don’t know where they are. How are we going to find where they took Dawn?”
At that moment, over the Vatican City, a pillar of ghostly light shot up into the sky.
Buffy smiled faintly. “Follow the Yellow-Brick-Road.”
-------------------------------
They made their way determinedly through the Roman streets – Buffy, Kennedy, Vi, Rona, Xander, Andrew, and some twelve additional Slayers, all armed to the teeth – heading for the Vatican City. Most of the humans had fled for the dubious safety of the in doors, and those who hadn’t were now dead. The streets now belonged to the monsters.
And the Slayers.
A trail of dead demons and zombies lay in their wake, punctuated by patches of dust that marked the final resting place of the vampires.
Before them lay the entrance to the Vatican City. The ground within was littered with corpses, and a pillar of pale energy pierced the sky, flowing upwards from a ruined cathedral.
And there, waiting for them at the entrance to the Vatican City, were HUNDREDS of demons and vampires.
Buffy smiled grimly. “Here we go.”
END CHAPTER 15
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