The Draco and the Scoobies chapter 13: Foreheads, tall or ridged
Title: The Draco and the Scoobies chapter 13: Foreheads, tall or ridged
Pairing: Buffy/Spike; Zamolxis/Bendis; Xander/Anya; Willow/Tara; and so on... ;)
Rating: Adult
Summary: Something insidious is brewing in the Universe. And that something is boredom. Gods, supernatural beings and mortals will find themselves forever changed by the consequences of one bored Being.
Here: Getting to the soul of the problem.
Spoilers/Warnings: BtVS:S5; Adult language; Sexual situations
Disclaimer: Not mine, really! So please don't sue. Joss, Fox, Mutant enemy and all the others are the ones!
Beta: dusty273
AN: Many thanks to my darling Sotia for all your support. Also thanks to everyone reading and reviewing on my fics, you bring immense joy with every comment. A lot of thanks to Mari for her beta work and enthusiasm.
Once again silence reigned throughout the Magic Box. Joyce idly wondered if that was how every meeting took place when a new threat to humanity was discovered. Probably not. She did note the look of apprehension on Spike’s face, though. Apparently he wasn’t too fond of the idea of her daughter being turned, despite the revelations. Good! She concentrated on Zamolxis again as he prepared to respond the question he’d been asked.
“As always, there is yet more background to reveal before I can answer.” After a groan of protest from Xander, for which he was scolded by Anya, he continued, “After the Corruption, the name the civil war amongst the Vampiri was given, vamps lessened, for lack of a better word, in humanity. Their demons started dictating more and more what the newly-turned individuals did, the people turned weren’t privy to the old tales of Vampiri champions anymore, so the newly risen vampires thought of themselves as evil, not knowing any better.”
“Right, not knowing sucking people’s blood is wrong is so common,” Xander just couldn’t help the snark. Again, Anya elbowed him and then she shook her head almost in defeat.
“Grow up, Xander and stop the bigotry, or you’ll find yourself having orgasms only with the magazines you have under the tools in the utility closet.” The former expat glared at her boyfriend and crossed her arms over her chest. “You knew rape was wrong but still tried it, didn’t you?” A part of her relished the way he flinched every time the event recently made public knowledge was mentioned.
The two gods exchanged a brief look of approval. Apparently Anya knew just how often to use the attempted violation, like one used a rod on an unruly child in times past. Too much and the effect is lost, too little and the point isn’t made, just the right amount of times and wrong intentions are curbed.
“Exactly!” Zamolxis drew attention to himself again. “First of all, remember that cannibalism was only extinguished amongst humans about 40 years ago, or so the official reports say. Back then, finding nourishment wherever and whenever you could was pretty common. So, young people, coming from communities that related all their knowledge without writing and most of them turned before reaching maturity by any standards, had to be taught by the other vampires how to behave.”
He looked at Spike with intent as he said this, knowing his history all too well. “To integrate, they had to learn to fight, kill and torture their human victims. Failure to be evil meant torture at the hands of the other expats and vamps and being left for the sun.” He looked at all around him, challenging them to deny his words again.
“But what of their souls, wouldn’t they have encumbered them in their swathe of bloodshed?” Giles wanted to clarify this once and for all in his mind, although he could already see where it was all going. Bloody brilliant that is, too.
“Souls?” Zamolxis snorted. “Souls are possessed by serial killers, pedophiles, rapists, dictators and the like; human souls, 100% pure by the Council’s teachings. How exactly are they pure?” He all but growled the next words. “The filth of humanity surpassed anything any expat ever did. Humans such as Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin and Torquemada, to name just a few of the most famous ones, have killed more humans than all the expats who were their contemporaries put together. So how much do souls really count for, hmm?”
After allowing them a few moments to absorb his words, things he considered clear as day and yet seemed to be news to the Scoobies, he continued his tirade, “So yes, the vampires still possessed human souls within them. They still have them to this day.”
“Bugger me, that’s rich! You meanin’ I’m no better than the Great Poofter, then? Not bloody likely!” Spike interjected.
“Are all humans alike? No! So why would you think all expats or even worse, all vampires are alike? They each have their own personalities, such as their respective species permit. Vampires, however have warring personalities: expat and human, derived from their human souls and expat spirit. Because of the Corruption, however, the expat part has grown in power throughout history, becoming stronger than the human side, to the point that they began to be considered ‘soulless’. To an extent, that is true, as many relinquish all ties to their humanity.”
He turned to the Slayer now, finally able to answer her question with a chance she could fully understand. “If a Slayer were turned, she’d become a Vampir of old, but with a double dose of expat and a double dose of humanity. Remember, Amara transferred both sides of her to Sineya. The few times such a thing was attempted, the newly risen Vampir went berserk, unable to process what had happened. Their essences fought within them until, ultimately, they all greeted the sun, killing whomever they came across, be it expats, vampires or humans.”
“No!” Buffy was on the brink of another cataleptic fit at the news.
“It wouldn’t happen to you, though.” Bendis’ statement froze everyone in their tracks again. “Amara’s essence has passed on to the next Slayer: Kendra and Faith after her. You are the new one, the first one of the new breed.”
“So… what? Should I join the circus?” Buffy asked with a crooked smile on. “Come and see the amazing new breed, sooo much different than the old one,” she sing-songed the pretend catchphrase, a hand twirling through the air.
“It means that you are neither Slayer, nor Buffy. Once you died at the hands of the Master and were resurrected, something that has never happened before, you were forever changed. Your power split from that of the initial spell, making you unique. You are you, there is no conflict within you except between accepting that which you are and clinging to a futile dream of being some vacuous youth, only interested in fashion, boys and fun. Is that truly your ideal of normal?” Bendis smirked at this, the thought seeming to entertain her greatly.
“No. I just want to… I mean… GAH! I just wanted to…” Buffy pouted, not able to defend her rapidly fading dream of “normal” in front of the candid face of the goddess in front of her. “This isn’t fair.” She crossed her arms across her chest and took the pose of a spoilt child denied candy.
“You are so much more and have the potential to be even more than that. And if you were turned, you would probably be able to either control the, well, demon by facing it head on and accepting the changes within you, or you would be subdued by your own fears and misconceptions. It would all depend on you and your confidence in yourself. And therein lays the problem,” Bendis said, her eyes saddened when she got to the last sentence, as if memories of some great sorrow were plaguing her.
“What’s wrong?” Joyce wanted to know. She had the distinct impression she wasn’t going to like the next part one bit. The male god once again took center stage.
“The thing is, Joyce, that some of the events we’re here to rectify have something to do with exactly that: what happens to a turned Slayer.” He turned accusing eyes on Willow again, making sure she noticed it before he spoke. “At some point, a witch decided to play God, creating an army of Slayers, using both the old and new branches. The result was unforeseen, both by the Powers as well as ourselves. During the final confrontation in LA which I already told you about, some new Slayers were turned. The resulting hybrids, untrained, unknowing of lore and custom, either killed themselves to ‘protect the innocent’,” he spat the words out like they burned him, “or were killed by their comrades in arms, or became the chieftains of the greatest expat army ever seen.”
Gasps of horror were heard from almost everyone. Despite knowing the war had been big enough to warrant the return in time of two such obviously powerful agents, the news that turned Slayers headed the rampaging army that burned its way across dimensions was like a punch in the gut.
“So what does this have to do with Buffy? She’s the new branch, isn’t she?” Joyce clutched her daughter even tighter in her embrace, her heart breaking at the quiet sobs tearing through the frightened Slayer.
“Due to some other events we are here to prevent, her strength of spirit was all but crushed on a number of occasions. Suffice it to say that she was unable to stop things going from bad to catastrophic.” Zamolxis locked eyes with the cowering Slayer, his words burning deep within her. “Stop crying for failures that could have been and become what you should be. Accept who and what you are and everything will work itself out.”
“Listen here you bloody wanker,” Spike grabbed Zamolxis by the throat in a vice-like grip that didn’t seem to phase the higher being, “lay off the chit. She’s the best there is. The best there ever was, I’d wager, even better than that Amara bint you seem so fond of. She’ll fight and she’ll win ‘cause that’s what she does.”
“I know.” Zamolxis said, not even bothering to remove the hand squeezing his neck. “That’s why we’re here, to give her the knowledge she needs to prevent and defeat the threat.”
“How do I do it?” Buffy’s steely voice was no less scary even with tears still streaming down her face. “How do I not lead their army?” At Bendis’ startled look, she chuckled darkly, a sound that was in no way related to happiness. “You’re not as cryptic as you thought, are you? I’m the one leading the Turned Slayer Army, aren’t I? I’m the reason you’re back, to stop me from going rogue.” She fixed her eyes on Zamolxis, who had removed Spike’s slack hand from his throat. “What do you want from me?” As she said this, she got out of her shocked mother’s embrace and took menacing steps towards the snickering deity.
“I always knew you were smart, Buffy, make no mistake,” the god replied warmly, addressing her like a friend. “The reasons for your fall and the future turn events took are numerous, however I cannot disclose some of them, as they aren’t going to happen this time around. What you need to do… we’ll get to that soon. Before that, there are some things still to be discussed.”
Buffy got right in his face as he spoke, however Zamolxis didn’t back down or show any fear, just a welcoming smile. “You are so much closer to defeating your own demons than you would have been without our presence. That is what is required of you: to stop being afraid of being the Slayer.”
Buffy snorted at this. “I’m not afraid of being the Slayer. I just want to be a girl sometimes, too.”
“That’s bollocks, that is. You are a girl, what with your frilly clothes, exploding temper and tenacity at finding wankers to date. And as for being afraid… Hell, Slayer, you feel so guilty about enjoying a good scrape with the… expats you meet it’s not even funny. Admit it, you love being what you are and enjoy it!” Spike made his point in his usual manner, pointing exactly to where there was a sore until the person targeted couldn’t ignore it any longer and had to deal with it.
“That has always been a problem, hasn’t it?” Zamolxis spoke up again, tag-teaming with Spike against Buffy. “That is what brought you down. You just shut down, unwilling to admit that you had been turned, unwilling to face the consequences and horrified at what you were supposed to do as a vampire. So in doing it, you allowed the demon free reign, becoming something so twisted that it warped reality.” His entire countenance was somber as he relayed his message. “Losing loved ones does a lot of damage to one’s inner strength. By the time you were turned, you had almost no fight left in you.”
“Who?” Buffy dreaded to find out, but if she was going to be prepared to overcome this, she needed all the info she could get.
“Nobody, if we have any say in it!” Bendis stepped behind Buffy, caressing her shoulders gently and turning her around. “That’s one of the things we’re here to do. Ensure that nobody else dies.” Buffy nodded her acquiescence, realizing for the first time that she was glad these gods had shown up. The thought was a sobering one.
“Still, what about Angel’s supposed soul? It is very rude not to answer questions, you know that?” Once again, Anya had the dubious pleasure of breaking up an awkward moment with her question about Buffy’s “soulmate”.
“He was a poor excuse for a human, a perfect specimen of a sadistic vampire, although fighting was never really his forte, and is now a tortured being seeking escape.” Zamolxis didn’t spare a second in giving his verdict.
“Escape from what, the threat that gel wouldn’t hold up his hair anymore?” Spike snorted in derision.
Even Buffy barely contained a guffaw at the vampire’s verbal antics. Especially with the eager and questioning expression he had on.
“Well…” Zamolxis said with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “as catastrophic as that might be, no, that isn’t what he’s trying to break free from.” Turning serious he continued his lecture on the things that this group was supposed to know, “Actually he himself isn’t aware of it, but what he’s trying to escape is the forced-upon conscience.”
“You mean the Gipsy curse.” Giles was particularly curious about the answer to this line of questioning. Sensing the elderly Brit’s distress, Joyce decided to let Buffy be comforted by Dawn, Spike and Bendis and moved next to the man she intended to create room in her life for and placed her hands on his left forearm. With a tight smile and a curt nod, Giles placed his right palm over her hands.
“The curse was inexact, due to the fact that so much knowledge had been lost. However, it seems that someone deemed it appropriate to answer the request in the spirit in which it was made.” He flashed a quick look towards Bendis, so quick that none of the humans present caught it. “There is a philosophical debate throughout the Court as to whom it was exactly that did it, but the effect was clear. Since his turning, the human part had been standing back, allowing the demon full control. That human part was redoubled in strength and purged of evil intent.”
He looked all around at the pensive faces before him, chuckled and continued, “You don’t grasp the energy required to do such a thing, but-”
“I know exactly what was needed. I performed the spell the second time, didn’t I? So you can-” Willow was cut short by Bendis just as she’d interrupted Zamolxis herself.
“We can tell you that you had some very serious help. Changing the balance of human and demon, something that hasn’t been done since the Corruption, would take about as much power as to create a Slayer Army. And trust me, half the deities helped create that.” She was getting tired of the upstart witch.
“But I was-” Willow once again didn’t get to finish her outraged spluttering.
“You nothing! You forget it takes the invocation of the gods and goddesses to perform even the simplest healing spell.” Bendis looked at Tara, gaining her support in a fraction of a second and then turned her gaze to Willow.
“Sweetie, listen to what she has to say, you know it’s true.” The gentle witch tried to soothe her distressed lover. “We have power of our own, but without the guidance and help of the gods, we wouldn’t be able to control anything. That’s why we have to thank the gods for their help after every spell.”
“Not that the witch named Willow is in the habit of actually thanking the higher ups, is she?” Zamolxis felt the need to hammer the point home. “I mean, why should you, oh, powerful one!” the god continued to mock her. “You need to learn the length of your nose.” At the blank faces around him he shrugged and said almost sheepishly “Romanian saying meaning someone should know their worth… or lack thereof.”
“What about ANGEL?” Giles bellowed, wanting the matter clarified once and for all. “Is he…” He couldn’t continue his sentence, the memory of a candle-lit bedroom with a dead body in his bed overwhelming him. Joyce kissed him lightly on the cheek, lending him the strength he needed to compose himself somewhat.
“Angel’s demon is restrained, but not subdued. His human part is without evil intent, but not unlike the haughty, know-it-all Irishman he used to be. He needs control and better yet, someone to control him.” Bendis spoke clearly, her eyes softening at the sight of the former Watcher’s distress. “There is one that could do it, but things have to go the right way for that to happen. Right now his human part, Liam, is almost deluded as to its mission while the demon, Angelus, uses any slip to gather its strength while attempting to corrupt Liam again. The resulting conflicted and brooding being is Angel.”
“So who gets to control Deadboy?” Xander asked, feeling that he should at least be able to get away with nicknaming Angel, if so many other things were taken out of his grasp.
“The Giant Forehead himself? Controlled? What, you lot plan on getting Darla back? Only that ol’ trollop could make him run through hoops.” Seeing the slightly uncomfortable look on Zamolxis’ face, Spike felt all the borrowed blood running through his veins rush to his head in a murderous rage. “You bloody idiots! What the bleeding fuck were you thinking? That diseased whore should stay dust.”
“What are you saying, Spike?” Xander wanted so bad to believe that this was all just a bad dream that he, despite himself, stopped caring that he was addressing a vampire and just saw another male member of the group. The slip startled him.
“Why don’t we let Loki here tell everyone what exactly Hell’s lawyers decided to do.” His fists clenched, Spike’s ice cold eyes pinned the male god with outrage.
“It wasn’t me exactly. Some of the lawyers at Wolfram and Hart decided to get rid of Angel’s soul. Their estimate was that their best bet, as they were unable to get Buffy to do it, was to resurrect Darla and have her do it. Their plan failed.”
“Failed as in poof, I have dust on my shoes or failed as in she’s back and she’s useless. Define failed before I pick one and beat you senseless with it, almighty as you might be.” Buffy by now had bounced back and forth between despair and anger so often that not even she could tell which was which.
“Failed as in they managed to make her human and had her sleeping with Angel.” A fresh wave of gasps followed every revelation. “He was… is tricked into believing he’s dreaming the encounters. By the time he finds out the truth, it’s too late to save her human form.” He looked pointedly at Spike.
“I did say diseased.” The vampire just shrugged his shoulders then thought better of it and decided to expand. “Syphilis, if Dru remembered correctly. Barmy as she was, it’s questionable, but there must’ve been some truth there.”
“She was right, at least in this.” Bendis replied.
Despite his hatred of the vampire that killed his first best friend, Xander felt a pang of compassion, remembering his own experience with the debilitating disease. On top of that he was getting a mild headache from all the changes he had to accustom himself to: vampires weren’t always evil; Spike in love with Buffy and her telling him he had a chance with her; Darla now human; Anya… He caught sight of Anya looking at him in that special way of hers. The warmth he felt was unmistakable and, unable to delude himself any longer, he knew he would have to make some changes in his views if he didn’t want to lose her. And he didn’t.
“So she dies. Tell me I don’t have to save her.” Spike considered Buffy’s whining adorable in this situation. Bloody hell, she’s pouting!
“No, Slayer, you don’t have to save her.” Zamolxis laughed silently to himself at Spike’s glazed over eyes. “But Angel’s… Handler will have to deal with the aftermath and you’ll all have to help her.” Silent chuckles greeted the new Dune reference.
“So, who is the unfortunate creature cursed with herding Angel about?” Xander was on a roll and apparently nobody was admonishing him for it. Ah, good times!
“One Cordelia Chace.” The female divinity answered in a flat voice.
Pairing: Buffy/Spike; Zamolxis/Bendis; Xander/Anya; Willow/Tara; and so on... ;)
Rating: Adult
Summary: Something insidious is brewing in the Universe. And that something is boredom. Gods, supernatural beings and mortals will find themselves forever changed by the consequences of one bored Being.
Here: Getting to the soul of the problem.
Spoilers/Warnings: BtVS:S5; Adult language; Sexual situations
Disclaimer: Not mine, really! So please don't sue. Joss, Fox, Mutant enemy and all the others are the ones!
Beta: dusty273
AN: Many thanks to my darling Sotia for all your support. Also thanks to everyone reading and reviewing on my fics, you bring immense joy with every comment. A lot of thanks to Mari for her beta work and enthusiasm.
Once again silence reigned throughout the Magic Box. Joyce idly wondered if that was how every meeting took place when a new threat to humanity was discovered. Probably not. She did note the look of apprehension on Spike’s face, though. Apparently he wasn’t too fond of the idea of her daughter being turned, despite the revelations. Good! She concentrated on Zamolxis again as he prepared to respond the question he’d been asked.
“As always, there is yet more background to reveal before I can answer.” After a groan of protest from Xander, for which he was scolded by Anya, he continued, “After the Corruption, the name the civil war amongst the Vampiri was given, vamps lessened, for lack of a better word, in humanity. Their demons started dictating more and more what the newly-turned individuals did, the people turned weren’t privy to the old tales of Vampiri champions anymore, so the newly risen vampires thought of themselves as evil, not knowing any better.”
“Right, not knowing sucking people’s blood is wrong is so common,” Xander just couldn’t help the snark. Again, Anya elbowed him and then she shook her head almost in defeat.
“Grow up, Xander and stop the bigotry, or you’ll find yourself having orgasms only with the magazines you have under the tools in the utility closet.” The former expat glared at her boyfriend and crossed her arms over her chest. “You knew rape was wrong but still tried it, didn’t you?” A part of her relished the way he flinched every time the event recently made public knowledge was mentioned.
The two gods exchanged a brief look of approval. Apparently Anya knew just how often to use the attempted violation, like one used a rod on an unruly child in times past. Too much and the effect is lost, too little and the point isn’t made, just the right amount of times and wrong intentions are curbed.
“Exactly!” Zamolxis drew attention to himself again. “First of all, remember that cannibalism was only extinguished amongst humans about 40 years ago, or so the official reports say. Back then, finding nourishment wherever and whenever you could was pretty common. So, young people, coming from communities that related all their knowledge without writing and most of them turned before reaching maturity by any standards, had to be taught by the other vampires how to behave.”
He looked at Spike with intent as he said this, knowing his history all too well. “To integrate, they had to learn to fight, kill and torture their human victims. Failure to be evil meant torture at the hands of the other expats and vamps and being left for the sun.” He looked at all around him, challenging them to deny his words again.
“But what of their souls, wouldn’t they have encumbered them in their swathe of bloodshed?” Giles wanted to clarify this once and for all in his mind, although he could already see where it was all going. Bloody brilliant that is, too.
“Souls?” Zamolxis snorted. “Souls are possessed by serial killers, pedophiles, rapists, dictators and the like; human souls, 100% pure by the Council’s teachings. How exactly are they pure?” He all but growled the next words. “The filth of humanity surpassed anything any expat ever did. Humans such as Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin and Torquemada, to name just a few of the most famous ones, have killed more humans than all the expats who were their contemporaries put together. So how much do souls really count for, hmm?”
After allowing them a few moments to absorb his words, things he considered clear as day and yet seemed to be news to the Scoobies, he continued his tirade, “So yes, the vampires still possessed human souls within them. They still have them to this day.”
“Bugger me, that’s rich! You meanin’ I’m no better than the Great Poofter, then? Not bloody likely!” Spike interjected.
“Are all humans alike? No! So why would you think all expats or even worse, all vampires are alike? They each have their own personalities, such as their respective species permit. Vampires, however have warring personalities: expat and human, derived from their human souls and expat spirit. Because of the Corruption, however, the expat part has grown in power throughout history, becoming stronger than the human side, to the point that they began to be considered ‘soulless’. To an extent, that is true, as many relinquish all ties to their humanity.”
He turned to the Slayer now, finally able to answer her question with a chance she could fully understand. “If a Slayer were turned, she’d become a Vampir of old, but with a double dose of expat and a double dose of humanity. Remember, Amara transferred both sides of her to Sineya. The few times such a thing was attempted, the newly risen Vampir went berserk, unable to process what had happened. Their essences fought within them until, ultimately, they all greeted the sun, killing whomever they came across, be it expats, vampires or humans.”
“No!” Buffy was on the brink of another cataleptic fit at the news.
“It wouldn’t happen to you, though.” Bendis’ statement froze everyone in their tracks again. “Amara’s essence has passed on to the next Slayer: Kendra and Faith after her. You are the new one, the first one of the new breed.”
“So… what? Should I join the circus?” Buffy asked with a crooked smile on. “Come and see the amazing new breed, sooo much different than the old one,” she sing-songed the pretend catchphrase, a hand twirling through the air.
“It means that you are neither Slayer, nor Buffy. Once you died at the hands of the Master and were resurrected, something that has never happened before, you were forever changed. Your power split from that of the initial spell, making you unique. You are you, there is no conflict within you except between accepting that which you are and clinging to a futile dream of being some vacuous youth, only interested in fashion, boys and fun. Is that truly your ideal of normal?” Bendis smirked at this, the thought seeming to entertain her greatly.
“No. I just want to… I mean… GAH! I just wanted to…” Buffy pouted, not able to defend her rapidly fading dream of “normal” in front of the candid face of the goddess in front of her. “This isn’t fair.” She crossed her arms across her chest and took the pose of a spoilt child denied candy.
“You are so much more and have the potential to be even more than that. And if you were turned, you would probably be able to either control the, well, demon by facing it head on and accepting the changes within you, or you would be subdued by your own fears and misconceptions. It would all depend on you and your confidence in yourself. And therein lays the problem,” Bendis said, her eyes saddened when she got to the last sentence, as if memories of some great sorrow were plaguing her.
“What’s wrong?” Joyce wanted to know. She had the distinct impression she wasn’t going to like the next part one bit. The male god once again took center stage.
“The thing is, Joyce, that some of the events we’re here to rectify have something to do with exactly that: what happens to a turned Slayer.” He turned accusing eyes on Willow again, making sure she noticed it before he spoke. “At some point, a witch decided to play God, creating an army of Slayers, using both the old and new branches. The result was unforeseen, both by the Powers as well as ourselves. During the final confrontation in LA which I already told you about, some new Slayers were turned. The resulting hybrids, untrained, unknowing of lore and custom, either killed themselves to ‘protect the innocent’,” he spat the words out like they burned him, “or were killed by their comrades in arms, or became the chieftains of the greatest expat army ever seen.”
Gasps of horror were heard from almost everyone. Despite knowing the war had been big enough to warrant the return in time of two such obviously powerful agents, the news that turned Slayers headed the rampaging army that burned its way across dimensions was like a punch in the gut.
“So what does this have to do with Buffy? She’s the new branch, isn’t she?” Joyce clutched her daughter even tighter in her embrace, her heart breaking at the quiet sobs tearing through the frightened Slayer.
“Due to some other events we are here to prevent, her strength of spirit was all but crushed on a number of occasions. Suffice it to say that she was unable to stop things going from bad to catastrophic.” Zamolxis locked eyes with the cowering Slayer, his words burning deep within her. “Stop crying for failures that could have been and become what you should be. Accept who and what you are and everything will work itself out.”
“Listen here you bloody wanker,” Spike grabbed Zamolxis by the throat in a vice-like grip that didn’t seem to phase the higher being, “lay off the chit. She’s the best there is. The best there ever was, I’d wager, even better than that Amara bint you seem so fond of. She’ll fight and she’ll win ‘cause that’s what she does.”
“I know.” Zamolxis said, not even bothering to remove the hand squeezing his neck. “That’s why we’re here, to give her the knowledge she needs to prevent and defeat the threat.”
“How do I do it?” Buffy’s steely voice was no less scary even with tears still streaming down her face. “How do I not lead their army?” At Bendis’ startled look, she chuckled darkly, a sound that was in no way related to happiness. “You’re not as cryptic as you thought, are you? I’m the one leading the Turned Slayer Army, aren’t I? I’m the reason you’re back, to stop me from going rogue.” She fixed her eyes on Zamolxis, who had removed Spike’s slack hand from his throat. “What do you want from me?” As she said this, she got out of her shocked mother’s embrace and took menacing steps towards the snickering deity.
“I always knew you were smart, Buffy, make no mistake,” the god replied warmly, addressing her like a friend. “The reasons for your fall and the future turn events took are numerous, however I cannot disclose some of them, as they aren’t going to happen this time around. What you need to do… we’ll get to that soon. Before that, there are some things still to be discussed.”
Buffy got right in his face as he spoke, however Zamolxis didn’t back down or show any fear, just a welcoming smile. “You are so much closer to defeating your own demons than you would have been without our presence. That is what is required of you: to stop being afraid of being the Slayer.”
Buffy snorted at this. “I’m not afraid of being the Slayer. I just want to be a girl sometimes, too.”
“That’s bollocks, that is. You are a girl, what with your frilly clothes, exploding temper and tenacity at finding wankers to date. And as for being afraid… Hell, Slayer, you feel so guilty about enjoying a good scrape with the… expats you meet it’s not even funny. Admit it, you love being what you are and enjoy it!” Spike made his point in his usual manner, pointing exactly to where there was a sore until the person targeted couldn’t ignore it any longer and had to deal with it.
“That has always been a problem, hasn’t it?” Zamolxis spoke up again, tag-teaming with Spike against Buffy. “That is what brought you down. You just shut down, unwilling to admit that you had been turned, unwilling to face the consequences and horrified at what you were supposed to do as a vampire. So in doing it, you allowed the demon free reign, becoming something so twisted that it warped reality.” His entire countenance was somber as he relayed his message. “Losing loved ones does a lot of damage to one’s inner strength. By the time you were turned, you had almost no fight left in you.”
“Who?” Buffy dreaded to find out, but if she was going to be prepared to overcome this, she needed all the info she could get.
“Nobody, if we have any say in it!” Bendis stepped behind Buffy, caressing her shoulders gently and turning her around. “That’s one of the things we’re here to do. Ensure that nobody else dies.” Buffy nodded her acquiescence, realizing for the first time that she was glad these gods had shown up. The thought was a sobering one.
“Still, what about Angel’s supposed soul? It is very rude not to answer questions, you know that?” Once again, Anya had the dubious pleasure of breaking up an awkward moment with her question about Buffy’s “soulmate”.
“He was a poor excuse for a human, a perfect specimen of a sadistic vampire, although fighting was never really his forte, and is now a tortured being seeking escape.” Zamolxis didn’t spare a second in giving his verdict.
“Escape from what, the threat that gel wouldn’t hold up his hair anymore?” Spike snorted in derision.
Even Buffy barely contained a guffaw at the vampire’s verbal antics. Especially with the eager and questioning expression he had on.
“Well…” Zamolxis said with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “as catastrophic as that might be, no, that isn’t what he’s trying to break free from.” Turning serious he continued his lecture on the things that this group was supposed to know, “Actually he himself isn’t aware of it, but what he’s trying to escape is the forced-upon conscience.”
“You mean the Gipsy curse.” Giles was particularly curious about the answer to this line of questioning. Sensing the elderly Brit’s distress, Joyce decided to let Buffy be comforted by Dawn, Spike and Bendis and moved next to the man she intended to create room in her life for and placed her hands on his left forearm. With a tight smile and a curt nod, Giles placed his right palm over her hands.
“The curse was inexact, due to the fact that so much knowledge had been lost. However, it seems that someone deemed it appropriate to answer the request in the spirit in which it was made.” He flashed a quick look towards Bendis, so quick that none of the humans present caught it. “There is a philosophical debate throughout the Court as to whom it was exactly that did it, but the effect was clear. Since his turning, the human part had been standing back, allowing the demon full control. That human part was redoubled in strength and purged of evil intent.”
He looked all around at the pensive faces before him, chuckled and continued, “You don’t grasp the energy required to do such a thing, but-”
“I know exactly what was needed. I performed the spell the second time, didn’t I? So you can-” Willow was cut short by Bendis just as she’d interrupted Zamolxis herself.
“We can tell you that you had some very serious help. Changing the balance of human and demon, something that hasn’t been done since the Corruption, would take about as much power as to create a Slayer Army. And trust me, half the deities helped create that.” She was getting tired of the upstart witch.
“But I was-” Willow once again didn’t get to finish her outraged spluttering.
“You nothing! You forget it takes the invocation of the gods and goddesses to perform even the simplest healing spell.” Bendis looked at Tara, gaining her support in a fraction of a second and then turned her gaze to Willow.
“Sweetie, listen to what she has to say, you know it’s true.” The gentle witch tried to soothe her distressed lover. “We have power of our own, but without the guidance and help of the gods, we wouldn’t be able to control anything. That’s why we have to thank the gods for their help after every spell.”
“Not that the witch named Willow is in the habit of actually thanking the higher ups, is she?” Zamolxis felt the need to hammer the point home. “I mean, why should you, oh, powerful one!” the god continued to mock her. “You need to learn the length of your nose.” At the blank faces around him he shrugged and said almost sheepishly “Romanian saying meaning someone should know their worth… or lack thereof.”
“What about ANGEL?” Giles bellowed, wanting the matter clarified once and for all. “Is he…” He couldn’t continue his sentence, the memory of a candle-lit bedroom with a dead body in his bed overwhelming him. Joyce kissed him lightly on the cheek, lending him the strength he needed to compose himself somewhat.
“Angel’s demon is restrained, but not subdued. His human part is without evil intent, but not unlike the haughty, know-it-all Irishman he used to be. He needs control and better yet, someone to control him.” Bendis spoke clearly, her eyes softening at the sight of the former Watcher’s distress. “There is one that could do it, but things have to go the right way for that to happen. Right now his human part, Liam, is almost deluded as to its mission while the demon, Angelus, uses any slip to gather its strength while attempting to corrupt Liam again. The resulting conflicted and brooding being is Angel.”
“So who gets to control Deadboy?” Xander asked, feeling that he should at least be able to get away with nicknaming Angel, if so many other things were taken out of his grasp.
“The Giant Forehead himself? Controlled? What, you lot plan on getting Darla back? Only that ol’ trollop could make him run through hoops.” Seeing the slightly uncomfortable look on Zamolxis’ face, Spike felt all the borrowed blood running through his veins rush to his head in a murderous rage. “You bloody idiots! What the bleeding fuck were you thinking? That diseased whore should stay dust.”
“What are you saying, Spike?” Xander wanted so bad to believe that this was all just a bad dream that he, despite himself, stopped caring that he was addressing a vampire and just saw another male member of the group. The slip startled him.
“Why don’t we let Loki here tell everyone what exactly Hell’s lawyers decided to do.” His fists clenched, Spike’s ice cold eyes pinned the male god with outrage.
“It wasn’t me exactly. Some of the lawyers at Wolfram and Hart decided to get rid of Angel’s soul. Their estimate was that their best bet, as they were unable to get Buffy to do it, was to resurrect Darla and have her do it. Their plan failed.”
“Failed as in poof, I have dust on my shoes or failed as in she’s back and she’s useless. Define failed before I pick one and beat you senseless with it, almighty as you might be.” Buffy by now had bounced back and forth between despair and anger so often that not even she could tell which was which.
“Failed as in they managed to make her human and had her sleeping with Angel.” A fresh wave of gasps followed every revelation. “He was… is tricked into believing he’s dreaming the encounters. By the time he finds out the truth, it’s too late to save her human form.” He looked pointedly at Spike.
“I did say diseased.” The vampire just shrugged his shoulders then thought better of it and decided to expand. “Syphilis, if Dru remembered correctly. Barmy as she was, it’s questionable, but there must’ve been some truth there.”
“She was right, at least in this.” Bendis replied.
Despite his hatred of the vampire that killed his first best friend, Xander felt a pang of compassion, remembering his own experience with the debilitating disease. On top of that he was getting a mild headache from all the changes he had to accustom himself to: vampires weren’t always evil; Spike in love with Buffy and her telling him he had a chance with her; Darla now human; Anya… He caught sight of Anya looking at him in that special way of hers. The warmth he felt was unmistakable and, unable to delude himself any longer, he knew he would have to make some changes in his views if he didn’t want to lose her. And he didn’t.
“So she dies. Tell me I don’t have to save her.” Spike considered Buffy’s whining adorable in this situation. Bloody hell, she’s pouting!
“No, Slayer, you don’t have to save her.” Zamolxis laughed silently to himself at Spike’s glazed over eyes. “But Angel’s… Handler will have to deal with the aftermath and you’ll all have to help her.” Silent chuckles greeted the new Dune reference.
“So, who is the unfortunate creature cursed with herding Angel about?” Xander was on a roll and apparently nobody was admonishing him for it. Ah, good times!
“One Cordelia Chace.” The female divinity answered in a flat voice.