Hope you all like it.
Buffy: War with the Gods.
“What we need to do,” Wesley said as he knelt down next to Buffy, “is make you a little more like yourself, and a little less like a pawn of the Powers.” Buffy spat in Wesley’s face. “Yes, that’s exactly what we need to do.” Wesley stared at Buffy. Ancient eyes looked through them also. Voices whispered in his inner ear. Old voices, young voices, aged souls. One voice louder than the other voiced it’s disgust at the fact that the world was going to be saved by a girl named ‘Buffy’ It beggared belief for most of the older voices.
“Wesley. I would appreciate an explanation. Why have you come back, and why have you taken Buffy prisoner? But above that, why did she attack you? You mentioned something about programming? Giles looked worried as his gaze moved from his prone slayer, trapped on the floor by glowing magical forces, controlled by a dead woman in the body of another dead woman. ‘I’ll really need to have a cup of tea’ Giles thought to himself.
“First off, I have to explain a little about my family history.” Wesley stood back from Buffy as he spoke, his eyes however, never left the near feral girl on the ground. The one who writhed and fought against her ethereal bonds, in a bid to tear him to shreds. “My ancestor, many , many generations removed, was one of the group known as the shadow men.” A voice began, shouting in his inner ear, “I mean, two of my ancestors were in that conclave.” Wesley restated. “My family it seems were partly responsible for the creation of the first slayer. That is why my family have, literally, always been watchers.”
Stunned looks came from the assembled group. “The shadow men? Not exactly a great qualification, if what Buffy told us about them is true.” Giles spoke with a sharpness, designed to take some to the wind and bluster out of Wesley.
“It all depends on your point of view.” Wesley uttered, somewhat deflated by Giles’s denouncement. The voices though were riled by the ‘nobodies proclamation’ . “They did create the legacy of the slayers, gifted the girl with the power to fight the darkness, to stand against the night, and the creatures that roamed therein. We acted out of a kind of desperation, The powers that be, declared us to be in control of our own destinies. We took that to mean that whatever actions we took, would be neither lauded nor condemned by the Powers. We were wrong. They condemned us, initially. We had toyed with the essence of evil, they felt we ourselves had been tainted by it. Only the actions of our Slayer, in her fight against the dark powers, saved us from eternal damnation.”
“From a Certain Point Of View?” Xander emphasised the initial letters of each word, increasing the emphasis with each passing word. “That phrase, has been used for years, to hide untruths, or as the normal, layman would say, Lies. What are you lying about Wesley” Anya grabbed Xander by the shoulder, to restrain him. Her grip didn’t hold, and Xander strode to stand in front of Wesley. “Well? I met your “first slayer” filled with loneliness, despair, unspoken, but felt. That was her point of view.” Xander’s voice quietened, just as he was about to turn to go back to Anya, he asked, “What’s your lie Wesley?”
Wesley smiled wryly at Xander. The look was so uncommon on the ex watcher, that some of the people around him took a step or two back from him. His eyes had narrowed, fixing Xander in a steely unflinching stare. The glare was one that could melt people, flash frying them with the intensity of the gaze. Then it stopped. A blue shape stepped into the range of the gaze.
“Allow Wesley to return spirit.” Illyria looked hard into Wesley’s eyes. She didn’t like what she saw. She was a War God, but even she had not seen such turmoil and strife within a single person. Thousands upon thousands of spirits inhabited Wesley’s form, all in a struggle to gain dominance. “Wesley Wyndham Pryce. Come forth now. I the Goddess Illyria call upon you to retake possession of your form.” The deep and resonating voice couldn’t possibly have come from the small blue woman, it sound as though it belonged to a denizen of on of several hundred hell dimensions. Which, technically, it did, but this voice came from what was once the frame of Winifred Birkle, she who had been the love of Wesley’s life. It gave his spirit the strength it needed to regain control of his body, for a few scant moments at least.
“Fred?” Wesley whispered, looking to all intents and purposes, as though he had been physically struck. “No, of course it’s not, she’s still up there..” Wesley’s eyes followed the theoretical upward direction of Heaven. “Buffy?” He staggered over to where the slayer lay on the floor, still seething. “When she died the last time. When she actually reached heaven, They, programmed her.” Such emphasis was put on the capital letter T, no one was in any doubt about which ‘They’ he meant. “They do it with all dead slayers, to keep them pliant, and under control, until the time is right to loose them on the world, to fight in the apocalypse. They’re actually on this plane as we speak, I can feel them all, their spirits are free down here, or at least, that is what they think.” Wesley laid a hand on Buffy’s furrowed and sweat caked brow, “this won’t hurt a bit Buffy, I just need to reopen your eyes.” A strange glow passed from Wesley to the slayer, a surge of power that made Buffy’s form stiffen momentarily, then relax.
“If she’s hurt, you’re going to straight to hell. Or Wisconsin.” Dawn stormed to where her sister lay.
“You can rest assured, I haven’t hurt her. I wouldn’t dare kill a slayer in a large house full of them. Do you think I’m mad?” Wesley managed a brief laugh before doubling over, wracked with pain.
“The elder spirits he carries are trying once more to gain control of the body.” Illyria grabbed Wesley’s form as she spoke, she lifted him easily off the ground. “Wesley. You cannot leave them in control of YOUR form. Take control, they cannot take what is not given to them.”
“But they can be of more help to you than I.” Wesley managed.
“If someone other than you takes charge of this form, I will put this form back into the ground and send those spirits directly to the nearest hell..” Illyria meant every word and it was clear to anyone with eyes and ears that she was.
Wesley himself shuddered slightly, then he laughed. “Thank you Illyria, They’re scurrying away like frightened children right now. But I’m sure they’ll be back. When they do, I trust you will be on hand to control them Illyria?” The pale smile crossed his lips again. Illyria, quite against her wishes, found herself smiling back, wondering what strange power he had over her to make her do these things.
Buffy woke up. Her eyes snapped open and she was awake. “What happened? Why can’t I move?” Her eyes darted around frantically glancing at Dawn, she’s safe, that’s good. Her eyes came to a stop when they landed on Wesley and Illyria. “What did you do to me Wesley?”
She saw Wesley stand up. “You can release her now Tara.”
“Waitaminnit? Tara? Huh?” Total confusion filled Buffy now. “What the hell is going on here?” She was screaming now, just as she felt her body released from whatever had been holding it. She was on her feet in seconds, surveying the situation, her eyes circled the room, again, they stopped on Wesley. She stared at him intently. She didn’t’ know why or how she knew, but she knew that he was different than before, he was darker, he had stepped even further into the shadows, he lived there now. All these thoughts and others came to Buffy instantly, she shook her head and dismissed the urge to kill him to get him out of her home, to protect Dawn from him. This was Wesley after all, how evil could he really have gotten while he was in heaven.
Now Tara, on the other hand. Now that she was able to release the burden of restraining Buffy, noticed that she had gained the attention, the sole attention of Willow. Tara knew that even through the rough time Buffy had just gone through, Willows eyes had never left Tara.
Barely a blink would have paused the gaze, tears poised to flow from her eyes, merely crystallised the image in her head. Willow saw Tara from many different directions, the perfect crystal tear, lodged in her eye, ready to flow, acted like a prism. Willow could see Tara from every direction at once, in every colour of the spectrum. Despite the form being Kennedy’s, Willow could sense Tara within. She had loved Kennedy, and it had almost killed her when angelus had turned her, but this. This was Tara! Tara’s come home. The tear dislodged itself and began the slow descent down Willows cheek, ending gently on the tip of a finger. Tara was there, once Tara had promised, ‘as long as I live Willow, I’ll never let you shed a tear, not if it’s in my power to stop it.’ Willow had never doubted her. Would never doubt her. The two women seized each other, with the passion of a couple who had been parted for half their lives. Willow wept, openly and freely. Tara, true to her word, caught each and every one.
The Amazon Basin.
“So how much further do we have to hike Oz?”
“I had no idea how much of a whiney assed slayer you were” Oz retorted, a smile firmly attached to his face. “The answer is, not long. The temple is just over the next ridge. I’ve spent some time with the monks here, they’re good people.”
“So you think they can be talked into handing this spear over?” Robin asked.
“Talked into it? Doubt it, they don’t speak English. But they know what you want, and who you are. That’s why they sent me out to find you. They knew that I knew you, and knew you knew me, and knowing them, they know that we know that they have the spear, or at least know where it is. Know what I mean?”
“I know” Robin replied, another smile dancing on his lips.
“I don’t know, I don’t even, wanna know. Just tell me when it’s over.”
The small band got to the crest of the small ridge, and looked down upon total carnage. The temple was in ruins, the monks were fleeing for their lives, chased by, by. “Is that what I think it is?” Oz asked.
“Ask me a week ago, I’d a’ said no. Today? Probably, yeah.” Faith shouted this as she jumped off the top of the hill and landed squarely upon the wings of an Angel. Both the Angel and the angry, but laughing slayer on it’s back plummeted from the sky. Faith had the Angel by the back of it’s white robes, refusing to be dislodged. They landed, hard. Well hard for the Angel at least. For Faith, it was a nice soft, if a little squishy at the end, landing.
Hurling herself from the back of the now incapacitated Angel, she darted back to Robin and Oz, who were still pretty much in shock. “How did they know what we were looking for.?” Asked Wood.
“Buffy tole us.” The three turned quickly to locate the voice.
“Who are you, and what do you mean about B?” Faith demanded of the newcomer.
“Faith, let me introduce your illustrious predecessor, Kendra. The Vampire Slayer.” Oz responded.
Lourdes.
Midnight. The hour that darkness seems to be more dark, when the creatures that you only imagine can exist, really do.
Standing outside of one of the smaller churches in the pilgrim town, Angel and Spike steeled themselves. “I’ve still got the scars from the last time I was in one of these places.” Spike said.
“No you don’t!” Angel replied. “You died after that, then came back, got half eaten, then healed by Cordelia. Of course, if she did leave a few scars, then nobody would blame her.” An evil, sarcastic smile crossed Angel’s face.
“Shut up and lets go Angel. The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re out.” Angel could not argue with the logic of Spike’s statement.
At the doors of the church, Angel placed a hand on each of the door handles and pulled. His vampiric strength easily tore open the old partially rotted door. Before he had a chance to open them though, they flew open. Kicked open by the figure of a woman.
“Alright William. Ready for a rematch blondie? I want my jacket back.”
Spike was shocked, as he looked at the slayer he had killed, over thirty years before.
“Who is it Spike?” Angel asked urgently, needing to know what he was up against.
“It’s the last slayer I killed.” Spike said in little more than a whisper.
The Academy.
“So, you’re gathering weapons to fight against the powers that be?” Wesley was genuinely surprised by the ingenuity shown by Buffy. He had never thought that she had the right attitude to be a slayer. But after the incident with the Mayor of Sunnydale, he decided that she was perfect Slayer material. Now he was made absolutely sure of it.
“Yep.” Buffy’s one word answer made Wesley roll his eyes. “Sorry Wesley. I just missed you doing that when I said something silly.” Buffy’s impish smile caught Wesley off guard, he smiled too. He could clearly hear his grandfather declaring his approval of this girl too. A resounding thumbs up. “But this is our main weapon. They don’t know it exists. It was forged in absolute secret, even from you guys. It’s the ax of the slayer.”
“Fascinating, was all that Wesley could say as he reached out to touch the axe as it lay on the library table. The axe flared, and blue lightning filled the air. Some invisible force picked Wesley up and tossed him against the wall.
“It’s never done that before.” Buffy said as she reached for the axe as it sat in mid air, about a foot from the surface of the table. As Buffy reached for it, it vanished, all that remained was a fading blue outline of the axe. “Not again.” Buffy said gently, before going to check on Wesley.
Dawn was helping Xander pick up rubble from the hallway. “I swear, I was nowhere near the Ax this time. I have to see a thing before I can open a portal around it.”
“I believe you Dawnie, and so does Buffy. But it couldn’t just vanish on it’s own.” Xander replied
“Uhm, Xander, you’ve been here as long as I have, OK, technically longer, but you know what I mean. We’ve seen weirder stuff than an axe that thinks for itself, and can disappear at will.” Xander realised Dawn was right, then like everyone else in the building, he started to wonder where it had gone to.
A crash from out in the grounds recalled them from their pondering, Dawn was immediately at the door, opening it ever so slightly, just to get an idea of what was going on. She wished she hadn’t. She quickly slammed the door. Even though she knew it wouldn’t help. Buffy had come running, after hearing the noise. “Dawn, what’s wrong?”
“Army from hell.” Dawn whispered.
“What?” Buffy asked. “What do you mean?”
The sound of the wood shattering was becoming a familiar one. The door to the left of Dawn came flying off it’s hinges. Xander had to dodge it as it flew past, “She means, that there’s an army from hell on your front lawn. Hi again.”
Buffy could only stare in utter shock.
“Glory?”
:o :shifty: