The Final Curtain

[menomegirl]

The first entry for The Algerina Memorial Summer Fan Creative Writing Contest is....

The Final Curtain

Author: ShadowQuest
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG-13 for gore, mild language, and character death. (Hey, it’s an apocalypse! People die in apocalypses! And, yes, that’s the correct plural.)
Author's notes: This story is set in 2021; character ages are given in one of the first flashback scenes, which are written in italics. I tried my best to avoid ‘ship bias.

The Final Curtain

A thick cloud of indeterminate source hung over the rubble. It was even difficult to tell what the rubble itself had once been. Nothing in the pile of broken cement, shattered glass or twisted metal in any way resembled what it had started out as.

Silence filled the air. Hours before there had been a cacophony of screaming, crashing, shouting and thudding.

Now, nothing.

Until...

Something caused a small pile of busted wood, which might have at one time been a desk, to shift. There was a cough and a weak groan, and then a hand clawed its way to the surface; the fingernails were torn, one nearly missing completely, the fingers were scratched, gouged and bleeding. The hand pushed at the detritus, trying to move it, and then stopped moving.

Silence reigned again.

“Are you sure?” Buffy demanded, not for the first time.

Giles sighed in exasperation, again, ran a hand through his hair, and replied, “Absolutely. Buffy, I’ve been over everything so many times I can see it with my eyes closed.”

She was about to snap at him to go over it again, but when she looked at his face she bit back her words.

It had been years since she’d last seen him. Five years, actually, on her 35th birthday. At the time her former Watcher had been 61, and officially retired for three years, although he was “on call” for the new Watcher’s Council, as he was the last living member of the original Council. Which was how he’d become aware of the news he’d brought to Buffy.

As she looked at her friend she was acutely aware of the passage of time - his hair was fully grey now, thinner, and worn much shorter. The crow’s feet at the edges of his green eyes that only used to be noticeable when he smiled were more pronounced, the crease between his brows that she’d privately referred to as his “angry crease” was a permanent furrow.

Not that Buffy herself had escaped the ravages of time. She’d been dismayed to discover her first grey hair when she was 25, and had plucked it. But when it returned, and brought friends, she had to admit defeat. She wasn’t about to start dying her hair to cover the grey; the last thing she wanted was to be one of those “bottle blonde” women who couldn’t seem to let go of their youth. And she had her fair share of “character lines,” although hers weren’t quite as defined, just yet.

But Giles looked exhausted, which made him look far older, and that made Buffy’s heart hurt. With a heavy sigh, she sat back down at her desk. “I’m sorry, Giles,” she said honestly. “I know you wouldn’t have come to me unless you were sure.”

After a while, there came a scratching sound, and then a tumbling as something shifted and fell from a pile. A moment later the hand reemerged, followed by the wrist, and then the arm. The hand groped around, shoving at things until the pile was readjusted, and eventually someone managed to pull themselves upright out of the mess.

Covered in grime and blood, the only thing immediately evident was that the person was a petite female. She coughed and groaned, and attempted to wipe her face clean. But there was so much dust in the air, and her face was so sweaty from her recent struggle, that the end result wasn’t much better. She grabbed the bottom of her shirt, turned it inside out as she lifted it, and wiped her face clear.

“You weren’t exactly easy to track down,” he commented with a slight smile.

“That’s because I’m retired,” she replied. “You should try it sometime.”

Giles frowned. “I thought I was.”

“Well, you forgot to inform Evil of that fact.”

His sigh dampened the slightly light mood, and he picked up a sheaf of papers. “Indeed.”

Buffy closed her eyes briefly, then said, “Ok. Gimme the facts.”

She looked around at the devastation in shock, then started to work her way through the wreckage. She tried to call out to her friends, but her throat felt like it was on fire. Probably from the hot air of the explosion, she reasoned, and the thick dust that shrouded everything. But someone else had to be alive. She couldn’t be the only one to have survived.

Being buried alive and digging her way to the surface was not high on her list of Fun Things to Do. She tried to dig through some of the ruins, hoping that the big pile in front of her was hiding someone, but her right hand hurt too much. She glanced down at it, and nearly got sick to her stomach when she saw exposed bone - the flesh had been ripped away from the base of her thumb.

Closing her eyes against the rising nausea, she lifted her shirt again, and grabbed the hem in her teeth, yanking with her good hand to rip a strip of material free. She nearly passed out from the pain as she bound her hand tightly, but if she was going to get out of this she had to protect the wound.

Stumbling on, she thought back to the meeting Giles had called two weeks ago. They’d assembled at his house, just like so many times before, and he’d told them what he’d learned about the upcoming apocalypse.

“Just to make this perfectly clear from the start,” he said, “I’m absolutely sure about this information.”
He glanced at Buffy, and went on with his explanation. “One of the new Watchers, Janice Crenshaw, came to me approximately a month ago with a parchment she’d recently translated. She wanted me to check her work, because what she was reading was...disturbing her. I went back over everything, several times, and there was no doubt she was correct.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Buffy first, then Willow, then at the assembled new Slayers. “There will be a...rising. Vampires, demons, werewolves...all the forces of darkness, the hordes of Hell itself, will be drawn to a central location on a certain date, called there by a powerful warlock. During the time of a full solar eclipse, they will assemble...and they will rain such destruction down on this Earth as has never before been witnessed. Those who attempt to stand against them will be utterly destroyed.”

Stunned silence fell over the room, and the main group of friends exchanged looks. They’d faced apocalypses before, and survived. True, this one was going to be a bit more than they were used to, but they’d faced tough odds before and pulled through. They might lose a few of the new Slayers, maybe have some serious injuries among them, but they could face anything together.

“I dunno, G,” Faith objected, looking around the room. “Pretty sure we can hold our own against whatever comes our way. I mean, we did pretty good against The First and its mess of super-vamps, and these chicks weren’t even full Slayers at the time, at least not ‘til Red’s spell kicked in.”

Giles sighed unhappily and said, “That’s precisely the problem, Faith. Willow’s spell. The Slayer line has been...corrupted.”

There was only ever supposed to be one Slayer. They all knew the bit - in every generation there was one girl called, one who would be given the strength and power to fight against evil. And so it had been for hundreds of years; a Slayer was called, and when she died another was called to replace her. That’s the way it was supposed to be.

But circumstances had led to there being two active Slayers at the same time, and then their only hope to defeat the First Evil and its army of Turok-Hahn was to activate all the girls the world over who had the potential to be called as a new Slayer. Which pretty much screwed up the whole Slayer line.

They’d been gathering the girls for years, training them, providing them with Watchers of their own (Once the new Council had been established and Giles deemed the new Watchers competent), and everything had seemed to be all right. But that should have been their first, biggest clue.

Now she was facing the harsh reality, that not everything was all right, and might never be again.

If only she could find...she stopped and looked around uncertainly. She’d heard something, but it was faint. She held her breath, hoping to hear it again and then...a cry. Faint, but nearby. Someone was calling for help. She tried to shout to them, but all that came out was a hoarse sound. She turned her head slowly, until she was finally able to tell where the sound came from, and moved towards it.

Willow had been heart-broken by the implication that her spell to activate the potential Slayers was going to be the reason they’d lose the upcoming battle. She’d fled to the bathroom in tears, leaving the other Slayers confused and her friends hurting for her.

Giles, Buffy, Dawn and Xander had all tried to get her to come out and talk, but it was Faith who’d finally gotten through to her.

“Hey, Willow, you know Giles wasn’t blaming you,” she said. “That spell was pretty much the only way we’d stand a chance against the First. And, I gotta be honest - I’m glad you did it. Now I can finally kick back and relax, ‘cause I’m not the all-important one anymore. There’s a whole bunch more Slayers out there to carry on.”

Willow finally opened the door, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. “You’re the end of the line, Faith,” she told her. “You die, the Slayer line dies with you. That’s what Giles meant - now that I activated all the Potentials, no more can be called.”

Faith frowned. “But there’ve been kids born all over the world since then. Why couldn’t one of them be called?”

With a sigh, Giles explained, “Because Willow channeled all of the Slayer power through the Scythe in order to activate the Potentials. Whatever...mythic energy is normally used to locate the new Slayer and give her her powers has been...used up.”

“Oh. Crap.”

It took her a long time to reach the victim.

Too long.

At first she sat down and pushed the larger pieces off with her feet, since she wouldn’t have been able to lift and carry them with her injured hand. But as she got closer she was able to pick up the smaller chunks of broken wood and plaster with her left hand, sometimes cradling the larger pieces in the crook of her right arm. Finally she had cleared enough of the mess away that she could see who had been buried, and then she closed her eyes against the tears that suddenly threatened to flow.

The huge gash across his midsection had spilled his intestines; he’d tried to keep them in place with one hand, but that had been a futile attempt. And all the shoving and lifting she’d done trying to get him to him had only added to the problem. He gasped, and his eyes fluttered open. She wasn’t sure if he could see her or not, but she took his hand with her left, and gently placed her right on his forehead.

“It’s ok,” she whispered, surprised to have finally found her voice, even though it sounded scratchy and disused. “It’s all right. I’m here. You’re gonna be ok. Just hang on, ok? Hang on. We’ll get out of here. We’ll...”

His eyes seemed to focus on her then, and he coughed, a small sketch of a smile trying to take hold. “Liar,” he rasped, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he was gone.

They’d argued over who would fight. Of course everyone wanted to, but Buffy had some strong feelings on the subject. “Not Giles, Faith or Dawn,” she said firmly.

“Excuse me?” Faith demanded.

“I beg your pardon?” Giles asked.

Dawn was a bit less diplomatic. “Who the hell died and made you queen?”

“I did. Twice,” her sister answered, arms folded across her chest in that all-too-familiar “I’m in charge” posture. “Dawn, Jocelyn is fifteen. I’m not about to have my niece end up an orphan.” Dawn had been fifteen when they had lost their mother. It’d been hell for both of them, and she was that much more determined not to put Jocelyn through that. “Giles, I love you. You know that. But, with all due respect, you’re too old.”

When he raised his eyebrows she hastened to add, “You’re retired. In theory, anyway. You should enjoy that retirement. I don’t want you getting killed in battle. I don’t want anyone getting killed, of course, but I really don’t want you killed. Been there, done that, sang the song.” She grinned, then turned to Faith.

“You’re the last Slayer, Faith. These girls...they’re good, but they’re young. A lot of them will die. That’s inevitable. I won’t sugar-coat it - that’d be insulting. Most of us are probably going to die; this is bigger than anything we’ve come up against before. But hopefully we’ll take a helluva lot of them with us when we go.”

Deep down Buffy knew that no matter how logical her position, they were all going to fight. They were her friends, and this was an apocalypse. And they all knew they fought better together. She couldn’t very well prevent them from going. She’d voiced her concerns, and that was the best she could do.

But she still worried.

She’d been wandering the ruins of the school for what felt like hours. She’d finally remembered that that was where she was, even though there wasn’t much left now that could identify it as a building of education. Ironic, she thought, how many of their battles had taken place in a school, since that’s where they’d all met once upon a lifetime.

So far, she hadn’t found any survivors. She’d found plenty of corpses, from both sides of the battle, and more...pieces of combatants than she’d care to think about. By the time she’d found the cold body of her third friend, she sat down on a rubble pile and cried.

Was she really the only one to have gotten out alive?

Could she go on if that were true? If all of her friends, if all the other Slayers were dead, why should she be the only one left? Over the years, she’d lost people - they’d moved away or they’d died or been killed - but that didn’t mean these current losses were any easier to take. She was human, after all; she couldn’t just...turn off her caring.

They spent several days drawing up battle plans. The eclipse was a little over two weeks away, so they had plenty of time to figure out just how and where they were going to make their stand.

Giles had determined that the warlock was most likely going to perform his spell in an old school, which had been built on the remains of an ancient burial ground. The area was, according to his sources, something of a mystical hot-spot.

“Oh, goodie. Another one of those,” Buffy had muttered, rolling her eyes.

“So...how hot are we talking?” Xander asked. “Hellmouth hot? Or just...evil mojo hot? Or, like, spicy salsa hot?”

Giles had raised an eyebrow and shook his head, trying not to smile. No matter how old they got, his young friends never really changed. And he loved them for that. “Well, normally, the area is just used for simple rituals; goddess worship and the like. But the eclipse happens to fall on Samhain, which, as you may know, is a holiday of divination and a time of the dead.”

“Uh, not to be too obtuse, but...don’t we always have a time of the dead every time a vamp rises?”

Giles allowed the smile this time. “Yes. But in this case, it’s a bit more...ahh...complicated than just a simple rising.”

“Of course.” Buffy folded her arms and waited for the explanation.

Giles cleared his throat. “I’ll try to be as succinct as possible, so we can get back to our plans. The ancient Celts viewed time as circular, rather than linear. They divided the year into two seasons, the light and the dark, and each had two major festivals or feast days - Imbolc, on February first, marked the beginning of spring, and Bealtaine, which fell on May first, was the start of summer. Lughnasa, on the first of August, heralded the end of summer and the start of the autumn harvest, and Samhain was the last harvest before the snow...and fell on November Eve, or October 31st.”

Faith groaned. “I don’t like where this is headin’.”

Willow had a small worried frown, and she looked at Giles as she said, “From what I remember...because of the way their calendar worked, Samhain was both the end of the year and the beginning of the next, and so was considered to be ‘outside’ of time.”

Giles nodded. “Exactly. It is the opposite of Bealtaine, which is a celebration of rebirth. During the Feast of the Dead, which was a night to honor the ancestors, the dead could return to visit the living, because the veil between this world and the other is at its thinnest.”

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. She’d finally run out of tears, and her breathing had returned to normal. She used the palm of her hand to rub the dried salty tracks from her cheeks, and then...

Someone was coming towards her. She froze, her heart catching in her chest, and then suddenly hammering so hard she thought her ribs would crack, and she nearly gasped. But she forced herself to be quiet, not wanting to give herself away if the approaching figure wasn’t friendly.

She fervently wished she knew an invisibility spell, or had one of those cloaks from that trilogy of movies Xander had been so in love with some years back, that she could just whip over herself and blend into her surroundings.

She looked around for something to use as a weapon, in case she should need one. There was plenty of splintered wood to use as an impromptu stake, but if what was coming towards her was something other than a vampire she’d need something a bit more deadly. Perhaps...

Luck seemed to be turning her way, because she noticed what looked to be the hilt of a sword sticking out of the rubble to her left. It was probably three feet from her current position. She figured she could reach it with a lunge if need be. She only hoped she could wield it one-handed, or she’d have to try to ignore the pain of her damaged hand. She certainly didn’t intend to go down without a fight, even though she knew this would most likely be her final one.

Giles and Xander had gone out to the school to look things over, or, as Xander put it, reconnoiter. As they pulled up to the site, Xander wondered, “What is it with us and schools?”

Giles chuckled as he parked the car and they got out. “We do tend to be a bit...rough on them.”

They walked up the path to the old building. The school had been closed when the town had needed to consolidate a couple of districts, and hadn’t been used in close to 30 years. Nature had done her best to reclaim the area; the grass was hip-high, shrubs had encroached the building, and a tree had grown up so close that one of its branches had actually gone through a broken window and come out the roof.

Xander took this all in and quipped, “Well, at least if our track record holds and there’s nothing left of this one when we’re done, we’ll be saving the town the cost of tearing the place down.”

Giles shook as his head as they picked their way over the crumbled sidewalk. “Hopefully we’ll fare better than the school,” he commented.

Xander nearly tripped over a rock as he turned back to look at Giles. This was the first his friend had sounded unsure of their prospects, and that worried him. They’d survived terrible odds before, even if they didn’t always come out completely unscathed. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

They circled the building, looking for a way in. Despite its age, it was still fairly solid. It was a one-level building, and all the doors were steel. They eventually decided that the best way in would be through the window under the tree branch. Xander used his elbow to break out the remaining glass, and gave Giles a hand climbing in.

“Ever get the feeling you’re getting too old for this stuff?” Xander joked as he followed him inside.

“Only all the time,” Giles replied, scanning the murky darkness.

Xander produced a flashlight, and they slowly picked their way through the classroom they’d entered.

Apparently Xander’s off-hand remark about costs wasn’t too far off, as all the desks were still in the room. Books, computers and other saleable items were long gone, however.

“So, remind me again why we’re going to set up inside?” Xander asked as they moved out into the hallway.

“Because the gymnasium is directly above the old burial ground. So it’s a safe bet that the ritual will take place in there. If we aren’t discovered by any of his minions, we should be able to overwhelm him before he can complete it. Willow’s working on a way to supplement our numbers.”

“Ah.” They looked in a few more rooms on the way and as they drew closer to the gym, Xander stopped and turned to look at Giles. “Rupert, promise me something?”

Giles came to a halt, surprised at the tone in Xander’s voice. “If it’s within my power,” he answered.

“If...if anything happens to me...take care of Dawn and Jocelyn.”

It felt as if someone had squeezed Giles’ heart when he heard those words. He wanted to scoff, to say that Xander was going to make it out just fine, that if anyone were to die it’d most likely be himself. But he didn’t. They all knew the odds weren’t in their favor this time.

Putting a hand on Xander’s shoulder, he nodded. “Of course I will.”

He stumbled to a halt. Of course, given how bruised, battered and bloodied he was, pretty much the only gait he was capable of was stumbling. And the sword wound in his thigh didn’t help matters.

But he’d come to a stop not because his wound was throbbing - his leg was fairly numb at this point - or because he was tired; he was past the point of exhaustion. What had caused him to quit moving was the blurry figure he’d seen up ahead. He squinted, but was only able to determine that it seemed to be a person.

But he couldn’t take anything for granted at this point, and tightened his grip on the dagger he’d chanced upon after he’d come to.

He cleared his throat, and the figure raised its head and looked towards him. He took a few shuffling steps forward and squinted again. Now he could make out what seemed to be blonde hair, but he still couldn’t determine if it was human or vampire.

“I am armed,” he announced, trying to keep his voice sounding strong, even though he was barely able to remain upright.

The person suddenly jumped to their feet and ran to him.

He raised the dagger defensively, but let it drop from his fingers as arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Oh, god, you have no idea how happy I am to see you,” a familiar voice exclaimed. “I...I thought...e-everyone was dead. I...I’ve been...looking...digging through piles...trying to-to find someone...anyone. Oh god...I thought they were all dead.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, even though his leg threatened to collapse under him. “Shh,” he soothed. “It’s all right. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She lifted a tear-stained, dirt-streaked face to look up at him. “Oh, Giles!” Buffy sobbed. “Xander’s dead!”

He closed his eyes and swore to himself. He sank to the ground, suddenly feeling old beyond his years. Buffy dropped to the ground with him, and they held each other while they cried.

When they got back to the house, Xander drew up a map of the school, with a giant X in the middle of the gym.

As they were studying the map and discussing how best to get into the school and where to set up, Dawn said, “I have a question. Does this warlock guy have a name?”

Giles looked up at her with a frown. “I...”

Buffy also frowned. “What difference does it make? He’s evil, and needs to be stopped.”

Dawn shrugged. “Well, I guess we can just keep calling him The Warlock or Evil Guy Who Needs to be Stopped...”

“And, again, what difference does it make?” her sister wanted to know. “It’s not like we’re going to invite him back to the house for milk and cookies.”

“Actually, I get what Dawn’s saying,” Willow said. “The Master, the Mayor, Adam, The First...we’ve always known who we were fighting in the past.”

“Good point,” Faith put in. “No offense, G, but...you really haven’t given us the whole story.” She looked over at him. “Have you?”

The room grew suddenly quiet. They hadn’t considered that Giles might be holding something back. Buffy, Xander and Willow exchanged looks as they waited for Giles to answer.

He sighed as he dropped into a chair. He removed his glasses and ran a hand down his face with another sigh, then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Finally he admitted, “No, I haven’t told you everything. I was rather hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

Buffy stared at him, her mouth slightly open. He was the one who’d called them all together, he was the one insisting on them fighting what could very well be their final battle, and he was withholding information? That wasn’t like him.

As if reading her thoughts, he went on. “I know I’ve...brought you all together with the threat of a looming apocalypse, but I really haven’t given you all the pertinent details.” He opened his eyes and looked around at them. “The ritual that the warlock is going to perform will...rip the Veil between this world and the next. As I said earlier, Samhain is a time when that Veil is thin enough that the dead can cross over into this world. Conversely, those on this side can cross into that other world.”

Buffy felt as if a chunk of ice had suddenly landed in her stomach. “Rip the Veil...and the dead can just...waltz over any time they choose.”

Giles nodded miserably.

Willow felt her heart flutter. “That...that wouldn’t be....too bad...” she started, but Buffy looked at her sharply.

“Not just those we miss, Willow. All the dead. I don’t know about you, but I don’t really relish the idea of facing Glory again.”

“Or The Master,” Xander added.

“Or Adam,” Dawn said.

Willow’s face looked like parchment when she realized... “Warren,” she whispered.

“The Mayor,” Faith said, her own voice strained.

Giles groaned; he really had not wanted them to know about that possibility. He’d hoped they would be able to attack the warlock and prevent him from completing the ritual. Having their old enemies resurface, enemies they had thought were dead and gone, would take an extreme emotional toll on them.

Which was, no doubt, exactly their enemy’s plan.

After some time, Buffy helped Giles to his feet. His wound had started bleeding again, and she removed the shirt he had tied around his thigh so she could look at it.

“Oh,” she gasped; the wound was at least three inches across but she couldn’t tell how deep it was because of the thickened blood caking it. “Are you sure you can walk?” she asked with concern, looking up at his haggard face.

“To get out of this hellhole I’d do the tango,” he replied with gritted teeth.

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It takes two to tango, and dancing is not part of my sacred birth-right. Wait here.”

She went back towards the pile of rubble he’d found her on and dug around a bit, pulling out the sword she’d noticed earlier. To her relief, the blade was intact, and she took it back to him. “Just in case,” she said.

She looked at his wound again with a troubled frown. “We need to keep that covered up, keep pressure on the wound.”

“Just tie that shirt back on. It’s not like Robin’s going to be coming looking for it.”

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, and added Robin Wood to the mental tally she was keeping of the dead. “It’s soaked through,” she told him. She closed her eyes for a few moments, then repeated, “Wait here.”

Giles frowned as she hurried off, apparently retracing her steps. He set the point of the blade on the ground and leaned on the pommel, trying to take some of his weight off his injured leg. Fortunately it was a claymore, so it was longer and sturdier than a regular broadsword, as it was four and a half feet long and weighed just over five pounds. Had these been different circumstances, he would have been admiring the blade, rather than using it as an impromptu crutch.

Buffy came back a short time later with a bundle of cloth and, surprisingly, a bottle of water. She knelt in front of him, picked up his dagger, and cut the leg of his trousers off at the top of the tear where the sword had gone in. She opened the bottle and used the pants leg as a make-shift sponge to clean the wound as best she could. She picked up the bundle and shook it out; it was someone else’s shirt, and she folded the tail up towards the top to act as a pad, using the arms to tie the “bandage” in place.

Satisfied with her work, she stood and offered him the bottle.

He took a much-needed drink, then asked, “Where’d you find this?”

“That new girl, Riana, had a supply of them. She’d frozen them last night, and packed them in her backpack this morning.”

He smiled slightly as he took another drink and handed the bottle to Buffy. “Smart thinking on her part.” Then he asked, “Any sign of her?”

Buffy took a long drink and shook her head. “I don’t know if she dropped this bottle, or if...she was...nearby. There’s quite a few of them I haven’t found.”

Giles sighed. “Well, we need to find our way out of here. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to help with the search,” and he nodded down at his thigh, “and it looks to me like your hand needs tending to.”

Buffy blinked; she’d actually forgotten about her own injury. She glanced down at her hand, not surprised to find her own bandage soaked through. “I’ll live.” Then she winced. “Damn.”

He set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I know,” he said quietly. He looked around, trying to figure out where they were in relationship to the exits. And let out a startled gasp when he saw a faint light lancing through the murk. His grip tightened slightly on her shoulder, and when she looked up at him he nodded towards the light.

Buffy frowned, then looked where he indicated, and very nearly let out a yell of joy. But she caught herself - what if this wasn’t a search party from their side?

“Hello?” a voice called out nervously. “Anyone? Please?”

“Over here!” Buffy shouted, her heart racing. “We’re here, Will!”

The light froze, and then sped towards them, growing brighter as it got closer. It was one of Willow’s fairy lights that she used for locating, and it hovered directly over their heads, giving off a cheery glow so that Willow could locate them.

And it also illuminated the total destruction around them, which was devastating. They both counted themselves extremely lucky to still be alive; a high-intensity fire had gutted most of the building, and what hadn’t been burned was shattered by powerful magic or combatants being thrown into, and sometimes through, walls.

They could see bodies, and parts, strewn all over the battleground, blood, slime and other things not bearing contemplation smeared across walls and dripping from the ceiling. And then the most glorious sight either of them had seen in their entire lives - the very worried face of Willow as she hurried to them. She’d barely reached them when they both threw their arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace, all of them laughing and crying with relief.

Buffy knew from experience that no matter how prepared you were for a battle, you could never predict how it would turn out.

On the day, just as the sun was beginning to rise, the first of Willow’s reinforcements began to arrive. With a screech of tires, a black car came to a shuddering halt in front of Slayer Central, and three figures climbed out and hurried into Giles’ house. Shortly after came a large blue van, and then a pair of motorcycles. Willow had used her telepathic ability to send out a simple call to all of their friends - “Buffy needs you. Now.”

And the call had been answered.

Xander and Dawn helped Giles in the kitchen, preparing a breakfast that they hoped would not only fortify the “troops” but also feed all of them. There was a pleasing clamor as old acquaintances met and recapped what they’d been up to since the last time they’d seen each other.

But despite the light-hearted air, there was a serious undertone to the affair, and it wasn’t long until someone brought up the reason for the reunion.

“Not that I’m not thrilled beyond words to see you all again,” Robin started, as he took a seat at the table, “but that call of Willow’s sounded pretty damn urgent.”

“Yeah, it really did,” Riley put in, rubbing his forehead. “And it was rather...loud.”

“That’s because you were closer,” Willow explained as she sat down. “Sorry about that, but I had to...boost my gain, so to speak, to make sure I reached everyone.”

She glanced over at Oz, who was sitting at the end of the table. Good old Oz, she thought to herself. She hadn’t seen him since his wedding...

“Can we maybe save the shop talk until after we get done eating?” Buffy requested. “Please? I mean...if this is gonna be a last supper...or...breakfast, I’d like it to be...you know...pleasant.”

Looks were exchanged around the table - that had sounded uncomfortably ominous - but everyone agreed, and soon the conversation swung back to happier times as they helped themselves to pancakes, sausage, potatoes, eggs and toast.

“That last spell took a lot out of me,” Willow apologized as they picked their way through the rubble.

“It’s all right, dear,” Giles assured her. “My wound’s not really as bad as it seems.”

Even if they hadn’t seen his grimace as his weight shifted to that leg when he stepped on something that rolled under his foot, they would’ve known he was lying by the paleness of his face, and the tight lines of pain around his eyes.

Willow was clearly concerned about him, but before she could say anything Buffy suddenly said, “The rift.”

“Huh?”

“Is it still open?”

“Oh.” Willow stopped, and frowned. Giles stumbled to a halt next to her, and she and Buffy each grabbed an arm to keep him on his feet. “I...” Now she had something else to be worried about. “I don’t know,” she confessed.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Buffy asked, her words coming out sharper than she’d meant them to.

“Well,” Willow started, “I did the fireball to stop the warlock, then I did the sunburst to dust the vamps, and I really couldn’t see what was going on...”

Buffy noticed the tears starting in Willow’s eyes and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just...” She sighed and ran her good hand through her hair. “This sucks. I was retired. I was actually living a normal life. And I liked it. I could sleep in. I could spend the whole day in my jammies and no one complained. Then this dumb jerk comes along and decides to raise Hell, literally. And, by the way? I hate Halloween.”

Willow grinned at the pout on her best friend’s face. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, the dumb jerk is dead.” When both Buffy and Giles stared at her, she hastened to add, “I didn’t kill him. Honest. And it wasn’t my spell, either. It was the weirdest thing. This...I don’t know...being of some sort reached through the rift and just...grabbed him and dragged him through. The way he was screaming, I don’t think I want to know what grabbed him or where it took him.”

“Of course!” Giles exclaimed. Buffy and Willow exchanged baffled looks, and he explained. “I had forgotten that aspect of the Otherworld - that if a person strayed into it or was led into it by one of its denizens, they’d find paradise. However, if they ventured into it deliberately, they’d encounter monsters, demons and other perils.”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “Kinda like he opened his own Hellmouth.”

“Yeah and it wasn’t too happy about how he did it,” Willow added.

“No, indeed,” Giles agreed.

They thought about the implications for a few moments, and then Giles said, “Good lord! What is that?”

They looked where he was pointing, and their mouths dropped open in amazement. There was a brightly glowing...something ahead of them. No, several somethings. They were hovering over the piles of debris, moving swiftly away from some, but staying near others for quite some time. From where they were, the three couldn’t quite tell what was going on.

“D-do...do you think...they came through the Veil?” Willow wondered quietly.

“Most assuredly,” Giles said, squinting towards the glowing beings. “Dammit. I wish I hadn’t lost my glasses.”

No sooner had he uttered that lament than one of the beings paused, then drifted towards them. Buffy moved in front of Giles, taking the sword from him, biting down on her lower lip as she took a firm, two-handed grip on the hilt. She wasn’t sure what was coming towards them, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. Not where her friends were concerned.

The floating light slowed to a stop, seeming to face them, and then it was facing them - a face coalesced out of the glow. A face they all knew, and missed dearly. She smiled at them.

“T-Tara?” Willow asked in a small, uncertain voice.

“I’ve missed you, Willow,” her lost lover replied, moving closer.

Buffy was torn - this...being looked like Tara, sounded like her. But they’d been tricked before, many times. She couldn’t be sure, and so kept the sword, and her guard, up.

“H-how?” Willow managed. She was gripping Giles’ hand as tightly as she could, hoping against hope.

“It’s all right; we’re on your side,” Tara answered, nodding back at the other light beings. “They brought me through. They are the Tuatha De Danann, the people of the goddess Diana. They are able to freely move between the mortal world and their own domain.”

Giles cleared his throat. “Ah...wh-why are...why are they here?”

Tara smiled at him. “They’ve come to escort the souls,” she replied, as if that was the most obvious thing ever.

“Where? Why?” Buffy wanted to know.

“To take them to their final rest, Buffy,” Tara said gently. She turned and looked at the other beings, who were beginning to gather, then looked back at Buffy. “The rift must be sealed. There are some among us who are keeping those of Darkness at bay. But they can’t fight them off forever. As long as the rift is open, the Darkness will be drawn to it. They will keep trying to get through, until eventually they succeed.”

Buffy closed her eyes briefly, and swallowed tightly. Even though she knew the answer, she asked anyway. “What must I do?”

Tara’s smile was sad. “The rift was opened by an agent of Darkness. Only a warrior of the Light can close it.”

With a sigh, Buffy nodded. “All right.” She turned to her friends.

Before she could even open her mouth, though, Willow glared at her. “Don’t say it.”

Buffy frowned. “Don’t say what?”

“Whatever quip you were about to make about certain death. What makes you think she meant you?”

“Umm...”

“Willow has a point, Buffy,” Giles said, sounding just a bit defensive. “True, you are the Slayer and, by definition, a warrior. But it could just as easily be Willow or myself.”

Buffy blinked a few times and stared at her two friends. “Because she said warrior, not Watcher or witch.”

“You always gotta make it about you, dontcha?” a voice teased from behind her.

Buffy spun around, and her eyes went wide with shock.

Xander grinned at her.

“Weren’t you dead?” Giles asked, his voice surprisingly steady despite everything that was happening.

“Yep. Guts spilled all over the place,” Xander stated, oddly cheery. He pointed back over his shoulder. “One of those glowy folks told me it wasn’t my time yet. And...here I am.” To prove he was actually alive, he grabbed Buffy in a bear hug.

Giles shook his head. “Remarkable.”

Letting go of his friend, Xander couldn’t resist teasing her a bit more. “Guess you’re not the only one who can’t stay dead.”

“Uh, guys? I don’t mean to be the party pooper here, but...we still gotta figure out how to close the rift,” Willow pointed out.

“Leave that to me,” Faith said, coming up behind them. “Gotta say, I’m glad to see y’all. Thought I was the only one to make it.” She looked like she’d barely survived - her upper lip was split and puffy, she had a gigantic purple bruise on her cheek, and her left arm was in a makeshift sling. “So, where’s the rift?”

“Faith, no,” Buffy objected.

“Aw, c’mon, B. Why do you get to have all the fun?”

“Dying is not fun, Faith. It’s...dying. It’s the end of your life."

Faith shrugged. “Yeah, I know. And my life’s been lived. I’m ready. Time for the next big adventure.”

“It’s not an adventure! God! Do you not get that? You’re dead. Gone. The you that’s here right now ceases to be.”

Faith shook her head slightly. “Yeah, I get it, B. So? What’s the big? I had a pretty damn good life. Lived a helluva lot longer than a Slayer should. Thanks to you lot.” She grinned. “But, c’mon. What more is there? Really? It’s not like I got a family’s gonna miss me.”

“We would,” Giles put in quietly.

“Yeah,” Willow agreed.

“We have to be going,” Tara broke in. “I’m sorry, but...our time here is ending. The rift needs to be sealed soon.”

Willow looked at her sadly. “Will I ever see you again?”

Tara smiled gently. “When your time comes.”

Faith and Buffy were arguing over who should go through the rift when they heard a voice call out, “Buffy? Giles? Anybody?”

Buffy turned towards the voice. “Dawn? Over here!” She frowned; how had her sister gotten through the mess? Maybe one of the glowing beings had directed her.

Dawn and her daughter Jocelyn found the group shortly after she’d called to them and everyone hugged each other thankfully. No one noticed in the midst of the reunion that one person had quietly slipped away and was heading for the rift.

“Xander, what happened to your shirt?” Dawn asked as she pulled back from him. She made a face. “It’s all...bloody and gross.”

He grinned lopsidedly. “Let’s just say I’d rather not hear the phrase ‘spill your guts’ any time soon.”

Dawn frowned, and then Jocelyn said, “Hey, Aunt Buffy - I found your axe thingy.” She held up the Slayer Scythe, then suddenly spun and swung out with it, neatly lopping the head off an approaching vampire no one else had noticed.

Everyone stared at her in shock as she turned back to face them. “Did you see that?” she asked excitedly. “I got a vamp!”

Xander took the Scythe from her. “Yes, you did, honey. Good job.” His voice was amazingly steady, but he, Dawn and Buffy exchanged looks. The powerful weapon had only ever been wielded by a Slayer...

“I thought Willow’s spell torched all the vampires?” Buffy said with a frown as she reached for the weapon.

“Well, maybe that one was outside when she did the spell,” Dawn ventured, “or maybe in a different room, away from the effect?”

“Speaking of Willow,” Giles said, “where is she?”

Buffy frowned and turned around. Her best friend was not in sight. She felt panic grip her heart like a vise as she called out, “Willow? Willow!” She looked at her friends, and they all came to the realization at the same time. “NO! Willow!”

Buffy ran. She ran as fast as she could, jumping piles of rubble, dodging around others, hoping, praying that’d she’d reach the gym in time, that Willow hadn’t already gone through the rift.

All the Tuatha De Danann had gone, taking along the souls of the other combatants, her friends. She was determined that they wouldn’t get one more.

She burst through the broken doorway of the gymnasium and skidded to a halt when she saw the rift for the first time. It was huge. Impossibly huge. It coruscated with so many brilliant colors that it hurt to look at it. Blue and white lightning crackled along its edges, but it was surprisingly silent.

Just in front of it she could make out a shadowy form. Her heart caught in her chest - she wasn’t too late! She could race through the rift, pushing Willow aside, and it would close up behind her. She could save her friends, her family, again.

She heard the others coming up behind her but she knew she could outrun them. And then she noticed another form next to Willow. The light from the rift was so bright her eyes were tearing up (or so she convinced herself) but in a few moments she realized she recognized it.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as Tara and Willow embraced, for the first time in far too many years and then, holding hands, they stepped through the rift together.

Buffy dropped to her knees, too shocked to scream or even cry. With a quiet whoosh the portal closed, plunging the gym into darkness. She stared into the black, stared at where the portal had been moments ago, where her absolute best friend had been standing just seconds before but she knew she’d never see Willow again. Not in this life.

Gradually she became aware that she wasn’t alone. There was a crunch behind her, and then a hand settled on her shoulder. Numbly, she reached up to take hold of it. She still couldn’t form words, and she wasn’t even sure she’d want to if she was able. A thin light jittered off to one side; someone had a flashlight.

“I’m so sorry, Buffy,” Giles said quietly.

She nodded, slowly got to her feet, and turned to face him. Without another word, he pulled her into a hug, and her tears finally broke loose.

Epilogue

Giles held Buffy for hours; during the ride to the hospital, while her hand was being stitched up, even while his own wound was being tended to. He had never seen his Slayer...his friend...look so emotionally shattered.

The others were hurting too, especially Xander, who had been friends with Willow the longest, but Buffy and Willow had shared a special bond; they owed each other their lives many times over.

They held a small memorial service for her the next day, during which Buffy never spoke a word. She’d withdrawn into herself so much that she hardly seemed aware of her surroundings and Giles was growing rather concerned.

Therefore he was quite surprised when she sat down next to him on the porch swing the following day.

“I talked to Willow last night,” she said quietly.

He sipped his tea and raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oh?” He glanced at her, but she was looking out over the yard, or perhaps at something else entirely.

“Yeah. She came to me last night. Not like in a dream, or a vision. She just...showed up in my room. She was...all glowy, like those Tooth people...”

Giles chuckled lightly. “Tuatha de Danann,” he corrected gently.

“Yeah, them. She wanted me to know...” She blinked, and finally turned to look at him. “She’s at peace, Giles. She’s with Tara, and they’re safe, and at peace. And happy.” A very faint smile played at the edges of her mouth, and then faded, and she turned her gaze back to the yard.

He nodded, and, finding a sudden lump in his throat, sipped some more tea.

“I asked her why she did it, of course. And she just...smiled at me and said, ‘It was my time, Buff. It’s ok. Tell everyone I love them and not to be sad. It was my turn to save the world.’ Then she just...faded away.”

They sat quietly for a while, and then Buffy said, “It hurts. God, does it hurt. I loved her, Giles. We all did. But...she’s with Tara now, and...”

Finally the smile returned. “I’m ok with that.”

the end.