Dawn was calm.
Dawn was centered.
Dawn was a frakkin' Zen mistress.
Dawn was—
"FOUR MINUTES! WE'RE WAITING, SUMMERS!"
In the Revello Drive home bathroom, seated on the ceramic throne, her previously shut tight eyes flew open and Dawn glared at the bathroom door from which that other female's voice behind it had just yelled. Reaching out for the toilet paper holder, this young woman gathered the required materials, got up and did what was necessary before dropping the used sanitary materials into the bowl. Closing the lid, Dawn went over to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly.
"FOUR AND A HALF! MOVE IT!"
Dawn sent her reflection in the mirror a truly evil scowl which was naturally returned in equal measure. Having to share only two bathrooms in a California suburban house crammed to the rafters with over a dozen Slayer Potentials coming here for shelter from their latest supernatural enemy was driving Dawn nuts at the total lack of privacy. The recent time limit of a maximum five minutes for every bathroom visit by the occupants wasn't really doing her digestive tract any good, either.
Performing one last check that there was enough toilet paper remaining and the spare roll was set atop the toilet tank, Dawn made a mental note to tell Xander he'd better do another Charmin run soon. The constant foul mood everybody was feeling during their hopeless battle against the First Evil, if someone took all the bathroom tissue at one go and didn't replace it, there might be actual murder done in the house upon that culprit.
To prevent this, most of the Potentials made sure to keep an emergency stash of TP on themselves at all times. Dawn hadn't seen so many stuffed bras since her last year of junior high—
"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"
Turning her head to glare again at the bathroom door, Dawn's patience came to an abrupt end. Reaching for the toilet handle without looking at this, Dawn viciously shoved it down while still in her extremely stressed state.
Something which then and there produced one of Sunnydale's weirdest moments having to do with Dawn's former ability as the Key to unlock dimensions. This had previously been achieved by the extraction of the Key's blood (either willingly or unwillingly), but Dawn presumably no longer possessed this power through her blood after the Glory episode years ago.
Unfortunately, the Scooby Gang never considered that Dawn's other human biological functions might possibly cause her to regain the capacity to open portals to other dimensions. To be fair, neither had Dawn especially since she'd never shown any signs of this whatsoever.
What Dawn failed to consider was that perhaps it wasn't just the physical manifestation of her existence which was required to now create an accessible doorway to other realities, but her emotional state.
Right this second, Dawn Summers was so peeved as she hadn't been in a really long time. Letting go of the toilet handle even as she continued to glower at the room's door from which the loud countdown was reaching its end behind that, Dawn never noticed how a brief flicker of green light glowed through the narrow crack between the closed lid and the toilet seat while the water and its contents swirled down the bathroom plumbing.
"TWO! ONE-!"
Dawn yanked open the bathroom door and stepped out into the house corridor now having a long line of girls standing there in varying degrees of discomfort all the way to the stairs leading down. She snapped directly at Rona standing there and closing her mouth after completing her countdown, "Fine, it's yours now!"
Rona just hurriedly shouldered her way into the bathroom past Dawn barely dodging in time to avoid being knocked over by the desperate Potential seeking relief. The bathroom door slammed shut.
Shaking her head in grumpy exasperation, Dawn headed for the stairs. Along the way, Vi also waiting in line mentioned to Dawn, "In case nobody already told you, we're having a meeting in the living room in a half hour. Everyone's supposed to be there, Buffy said."
"Thanks, Vi," nodded Dawn. She continued her way downstairs, wondering what was going on now. The way things were, it most likely would be even more bad news.
Down in the basement, Spike roused from his usual daytime kip, sleepily wondering what'd just awoken him. The vampire in his bed at one corner of the basement wasn't feeling any urgent sense of danger or some other reason he should be on guard—
The house's sewer line momentarily whooshed again, which his demonic hearing easily perceived even through the basement wall. Come to think of it, it sounded a bit different than before. Hollower, like. Maybe the pipes were wearing out or something. They were certainly working a lot harder than usual what with all the new people in the Slayer's house. Spike had necessarily gotten used to it the last couple of days, so much that he could doze off now without the noise bothering him in the least.
Yawning, Spike turned over in the bed and went back to his slumber. Little did he know that this blood-drinking monster's continued unliving existence would soon end within the next hour.
It wasn't as bad as Dawn thought it'd be.
It was worse.
Under the appalled gazes of the Scoobies, various hangers-on, and the Potentials, Buffy was stalking back and forth in the living room. Throughout this, she kept ranting like a combination of General Patton at his crankiest and what's-his-name, that other British highest-ranking officer in World War I who as per the classic Blackadder joke was determined to get a multitude of his soldiers killed in battle simply to move the drinks cabinet six inches closer to Berlin.
According to this haranguing Slayer now actually beginning to get little flecks of spittle at the corners of her mouth, it was all their fault that things were going so wrong! Well, she wasn't going to stand for it any more! They'd better shape up or else Buffy was going to be much harder than before on everybody unlike the past few weeks when she'd eased up!
Incredulous glances were surreptitiously traded among the listeners. That had been her acting easy on them?
Before anyone there could actually make some sort of protest against these unfounded accusations, an unexpected guest summarily joined their company. In the center of the living room, right next to Buffy, a young girl dressed in pajamas and wearing a makeshift noose around her neck now stood there, gleefully applauding.
The entire crowd recoiled, scrambling to get as far away as possible while still staying in the room. Only Buffy didn't move. Instead, she just glared at this intangible representation of Chloe, a Potential who'd earlier committed suicide due to being manipulated into this by the First Evil, an incorporeal entity who claimed to be the sum total of all evil in existence and had among its powers the ability to manifest itself as anyone who'd previously died.
Before anyone else could open their mouths, the First Evil then said quite jovially to Buffy, "Congratulations, Miss Summers! You know all those inspiring speeches in the history books, the ones which fired up people to go out and fight bravely to the last against an irresistible foe?"
"Yeah, so?" Buffy snarled back, goaded into this by the monster over there acting so pleased.
"Well, what you were just saying…that wasn't one of them."
Buffy's fists clenched, as if she'd really love to lay one tremendous punch right on that creep's nose. There was no point, of course. It'd be just like hitting fog. Maybe if she pretended to ignore it, the First Evil would soon get bored and leave.
However, there didn't seem any chance of this, what with how much fun the First Evil appeared to be having as demonstrated by its next words: "Yes, indeed, it's a pity nobody will be left to marvel over how close you came to matching the sheer hilarity of my most favorite ever motivational speech by a military officer to his troops."
In the blink of an eye, Chloe was gone and replaced by an older man in soldierly dress, a bristling crew cut, and a walrus mustache for which Josef Stalin would've given a Slavic nod of approval. In a definite French accent, this officer calmly informed the room, "Gentlemen, we attack tomorrow. The first wave will be killed. The second also. And the third. A few men from the fourth will reach their objective. The fifth wave will capture the position. Thank you, gentlemen."
Another quick transformation had the First Evil presenting itself as Chloe once more and again smirking at Buffy continuing to bestow a truly incandescent glare upon the semblance of someone she'd once derided as an idiot, stupid, and weak for daring to desert the good fight by killing herself.
This confrontation abruptly ceased by both the First Evil's expression then altering into sudden bafflement as it began to look around at the room for something missing, and also the entire house beginning to shudder on this building's foundation.
Among those there, every California native shot up onto their feet if they weren't already standing and started a panicky chorus of "EARTHQUA-!"
What was occurring in another reality might've taken place earlier than the above events, or at the same moment, or even later on. When you try to match up temporal incidents between two different universes, it's not always straightforward. Anyway…
Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully, ., D.M., D.S., ., D.G., D.D., D.C.L., D.M. Phil., D.M.S., D.C.M., D.W., .L., head of Ankh-Morpork's Unseen University, the premium school of wizardry for the Discworld, had his fleshly face screwed up in disgust as if he was smelling something bad.
This was quite true, given the malodorous odors presently drifting throughout the Great Hall's dining area. More usually infused with the appetizing aromas of the huge meals set out for the university's workforce upon the room tables, today's noontime repast had been interrupted by a sudden shower of what could only be described as shit.
Glaring at the knocked-over chairs and disturbed plates where a hastily-vacated room was now clear of people besides Ridcully and Ponder Stibbons, the Archchancellor growled from the corner of his mouth to his second in command, "You're positive this isn't some sort of student prank, Stibbons?"
From the way the larger man's ham-sized fists tightened on the wizard's staff he was holding, Ridcully was still definitely in the mood for inflicting with this a few hurled fireballs or a good whacking onto the heads of those little bastards who'd dared ruining his lunch.
Examining again the small metal box with a dial in the front which he was holding in one hand, Ponder shook his head. "The thaumometer says otherwise, sir. That new portal there, it's completely different from any sort of magic we use."
The two wizards contemplated the glowing-green circle now set in the Great Hall's ceiling, from which protruded a metal pipe dripping from its end. It'd appeared there without the slightest warning mere minutes ago, announcing its presence by next spraying a very repulsive substance onto the occupants below peacefully tucking into their light buffet (no more than a dozen courses or so).
Ridcully knew he didn't have long before his underlings got back from their headlong stampede out of the room, having changed their robes and done a quick wash-up. Only he and young Stibbons had escaped being soaked by coming in a few moments after lunch started, just in time to see the portal deliver its unwanted gifts. When they returned, though, the Dean and everyone else were sure to want their Archchancellor to bloody well fix things.
"Right," Ridcully said in an extremely menacing tone of voice which indicated that the entire universe had just better watch out, "call in Modo to nail a couple planks over that damn portal to block it while we figure out a way to shut it down permanently- OH, NO, I'M NOT HAVIN' THIS!"
That final loud irate roar was due to the pipe disgorging yet another cascade of brownish water all over the place, increasing the appalling pong even more in the Great Hall.
Ridcully's normally bellicose temper, already gossamer-thin, snapped at this very last straw. He stomped forwards into the Great Hall, stopping in front of the nearest puddle, and lifted over his head that Archchancellor's staff. Six feet of sapient pearwood now pulsed with magical energy.
Ponder's eyes widened in horror, and he swiftly dove for cover. A wise move, that.
With an immense blast of octarine light, the Great Hall was flooded with supernatural illumination. This covered every bit of dross in the room – both solids and liquids - to next haul all of it up into the air and then coalesce into a floating blob. A majestic flick of the wizard's staff then directed this blob upwards, where it shot with blurring speed at and then through the portal.
If it'd stopped there, that would've been perfectly fine. However, Ridcully yet maintained the octarine light inside the Great Hall, apparently to make sure he'd gotten everything. Continuing to point the end of his staff at the portal, the Archchancellor's determined expression switched into surprise when this light unexpectedly soaked through the stone floor. He obviously hadn't meant to do that. Neither did this extremely powerful wizard expect what happened next.
From underneath the Great Hall's floor, a geyser of dark liquid burst through the shattered flagstones in a thick column the width of a full-grown oak. For long seconds, the fountain of what looked like tens of thousands of gallons of water (or something else) kept on jetting into the portal.
Eventually, whatever had been under the Great Hall came to an end, with the instant cutting-off of the dark fountain that no lower flowed upwards. Lowering his staff, Ridcully gaped at the new, circular hole currently in the floor. Looking upwards, the Archchancellor now blinked at the completely unmarked ceiling where the portal which had been there no longer existed.
"What in blazes happened?" Ridcully in a baffled voice asked Stibbons now coming up at his side.
This younger wizard also examined the changes to the Great Hall's floor and ceiling. He responded a trifle acerbly, "You overdid it somewhat, sir. Using your magic to completely clean up here was fine, but when you didn't stop, your staff went looking for even more crap to send through the portal. At least it didn't go for the nearest of this, thank Offler."
Ridcully's face showed genuine mystification. "Why's that such a good thing?"
"Because it'd have come from us."
"Ah," the older wizard guiltily winced. He rallied with, "So, where was that stuff from, anyway?"
Stibbons eyed the hole again. "Let me see…it leads to the university cesspits, sir."
Ridcully looked even more baffled. "Hold on, now. I thought we get rid of all of it by dumping it into the Ankh. I remember my first year here, how the older teachers mentioned they put in plumbing a couple decades earlier leading to the river."
"Yes, well," sighed Stibbons, "That was because back then the city's garderobe cleaners who eventually became the Guild of Plumbers and Dunnikin Divers refused to pump out the cellars any more after what happened to the last group who tried."
"What did?"
"Nobody knows. The survivors never talked about it. Anyway, as you said, a sewer line was installed and the cellars were sealed up. When nothing harmful apparently occurred, people soon forgot about it all except for the Guild itself. I was rather surprised when a few months ago they told me about the cesspits and offered to deal with this again for once and all."
The Archchancellor regarded Stibbons rather quizzically. "And you didn't take them up on it?"
In turn, Ponder sent back a level stare at his boss. "The fee they quoted was three times the entire yearly budget for the university, sir."
Thinking this over, Ridcully soon brightened up. "So, basically, I saved UU a bloody big wad of lolly, doin' their job for them."
"You…could put it that way, sir," Ponder said carefully. He indicated the hole in the Great Hall floor. "However, there's two things which concern me. We'll still need to cover that up."
Shrugging, Ridcully informed his subordinate, "Like I said before, give it to Modo along with his other odd jobs and garden work, cappin' it closed. He's a dwarf, ain't he? Should have more than enough experience workin' with rock and all that."
The older wizard then shot a thoughtful gaze at Ponder. "What was the other thing?"
Ponder lifted his own eyes towards the ceiling with some worry, even if the strange portal which'd been there was no longer in evidence. "Er…whether it was created by accident or actual intent, whoever was on the other side of that portal just received from us a very large amount of, ah, wizarding ordure. I seriously doubt they appreciated it, sir."
Grandly drawing himself up, Archchancellor Ridcully in all his authority then declared with impressive, steely-eyed calm: "Bugger 'em. It's their problem now."
Settling back into a more relaxed posture, Mustrum then told Ponder, "Don't know about you, laddie, but I could scoff down a whole plate of ham sandwiches at one go. Let's be off to the kitchens and bother the cooks. With any luck, the Dean and the rest won't find us until we've eaten."
Turning to stride out of the Great Hall, the Archchancellor was followed by Ponder sending one last speculative glance at the ceiling. He couldn't help thinking that perhaps his boss was a bit too dismissive of what the exact effects of the muck previously contained inside a magical university could cause at its current location. After all, besides the…personal…contributions of entire generations of wizards, there were in addition several decades of remnants of supernatural potions poured down the drains to intermix in peculiar ways—
"STIBBONS! Get a move on!"
Hurrying after Ridcully, the younger wizard mentally consoled himself with, *Oh, well, like he said, it's their problem now.*
Just after a cut-short scream came from the basement, a massive spout of reeking liquid erupted from beneath the Revello Drive house. In a twinkling, this foul fluid flooded through every space it found: through the cracks in the floorboards, bursting out of various pipes running all over the home while ripping them apart at the same time, and even gushing from between the inside wall beams. However, the main column rose in a straight line towards the roof from the house's center, easily rupturing all the floors along the way and then spreading out horizontally into every room.
As the water (presumably) level rose, it lifted everybody there in the living room off their feet, accompanied by slamming them against the walls and furniture also drifting in the maelstrom. Even during such a disaster, people still couldn't help noticing the liquid around them was behaving in various weird ways. Some of it was sparking tiny flashes of lightning; there were strangely-colored balls of light hovering atop the surface; and several Potentials later swore they heard actual "Whee!" giggling sounds made when bubbles popped.
Buffy didn't bother paying attention to any of this, however. She was preoccupied by something much more eerie, hard as that was to believe. Flailing away with her arms as not to be swept away, this Slayer kept staring at where the First Evil was in the middle of the room, now up to its neck. Rather than possessing the usual vicious smirk indicating 'you're dead and don't even know it', that monster now had an expression of actual fright on its face.
Which a moment later, flickered into a mess of static just like an image on a television screen turning into snow. Right after, the First Evil shifted back into an unblemished appearance, but this time as Buffy Summers. The two identical young women stared into each other's gazes, with the First Evil still appearing in utter terror—
Like the light from a lamp directly after its switch was turned off, the First Evil vanished.
Buffy didn't have the time to think about this, what with another tremendous surge from below sending the waters even higher…and then outwards. Accompanied by the noises of groaning wood and screams of alarm by the people caught inside there, the suburban home's walls were pushed over on all sides. In a crashing wave, the escaping water carried along everyone onto the front yard, scattering them all nearly the way to the street sidewalk.
As they lay dazed on the soaked grass, Buffy and the rest then heard her house's roof no longer borne by the water column then come collapsing down. When it struck what was left of the foundation, the roof broke apart into multiple pieces, sending asphalt tiles and wood splinters everywhere. None of these hit the ducking occupants of the front yard, thankfully. When it seemed safe, they warily lifted their heads to see how among the crumpled walls that the basement was now completely exposed to sunlight…and it was also filled to the very brim with sloshing sewage.
In between the groaning, the gagging, and the vomiting coming from the others, Buffy said in a shocked whisper: "Spike?"
Fifteen minutes later and several blocks away, Buffy asked in a distant voice, "Dawnie, I've been a total bitch again, haven't I?"
Only the fact that she'd just watched in horrified fascination how something had just fallen out the back of her sister's hair being drenched by the garden hose Dawn was wielding kept this younger sibling from promptly replying with a "Hell, yeah!"
Her eyes followed whatever it'd been with far too many legs hit the ground and then scurry off out of sight. Particularly worrying had been the friendly wave sent Dawn's way by this—
"HEY!"
That sudden yelp from Buffy caused Dawn to flinch and look over at where her sister was spluttering with a dripping face. Oops. Evidently, not hearing Dawn respond right away made Buffy turn around to catch the hose's stream right in the kisser.
Hurriedly lowering her aim, Dawn continued cleaning off her sister. Holding out her arms, Buffy still sent Dawn a quick glare that this would still be remembered. That nasty look shifted into concern at seeing Dawn beginning to shiver in her total nudity.
The Slayer hadn't felt anything but eagerness to get spotless under the garden hose when they'd both stripped to the skin in some Sunnydale resident's backyard and then Dawn had gone first.
Clearing her throat in the reminder that this had better be done with as swiftly as possible, Buffy tried once more, "I just want to say I'm sorry. I know I promised after the whole Darth Willow episode to treat you better, only to screw it up again with you and the Potentials. Now that we've won, I'll have to apologize to them, too."
"Uh, Buffy," Dawn began while doing her sister's legs, "Are you still sure the whole thing with the First Evil's really over?"
Fastidiously stepping out of the soiled patch of grass where she'd been standing, Buffy shifted onto one foot while holding out the other for her sister to spray. "You saw what was left of the Bringers."
Waiting for Buffy to hop onto the cleaned foot and present the dirty one, Dawn had to admit, "Yeah, that's right."
After leaving in two groups from the destroyed Summers home – the females in one direction and all the males straight into the opposite direction – these young women soon scattered throughout one of the city's evacuated neighborhoods earlier deserted by its former residents. Along the way, the wary Scoobies and the accompanying Potentials had found a circle of the First Evil's Bringer minions surrounding the Revello Drive house. In spite of this, there'd been no cause for alarm due to every single Bringer slumped stone-cold dead in their hiding places and already beginning to dissolve.
That encouraged Buffy and the rest to find some privacy in separate locations to spruce up and then take a bunch of new clothes and everything else from the nearest empty house. There was no choice; the Summers sisters plus the others had literally lost all they'd formerly owned in the recent catastrophe.
Getting back to the topic on hand, Dawn couldn't help pointing out, "It doesn't mean it's completely gone—"
Buffy was shaking her head. She informed Dawn, "Don't you feel it?"
"Um…" Dawn paused. Now that Buffy'd mentioned this, the overpowering air of hopelessness and malice surrounding Sunnydale was now gone. It'd been thoroughly crushing, enough that Dawn plus every other member of their small band could do nothing but endure it and finally become so used to the situation that only when it stopped were most of the Scoobies convinced things had gone back to normal.
Well, as normal as things ever got for their hometown.
Dawn frowned. "Hey, does this mean the ordinary people who left Sunnydale without knowing why will return soon?"
"I guess," Buffy shrugged, sending drops of water flying everywhere. Squeezing out more of this from her hair gripped in strong fingers, Buffy sniffled once or twice. "That'll prove we definitely won, even if it cost us a lot."
Reminded of a certain spiky-haired vampire, Dawn felt her own sadness wash over the Key. "Grabbing Andrew and repeatedly dipping him into the basement to search it while you held him by one ankle was a little harsh, but we had to know for sure. I can't believe he's really gone."
"Me neither," Buffy sighed. "At least it was quick."
She examined Dawn dropping the hose and crossing her arms across her bare chest to stop the recurring shivers. Buffy glanced over at the house where they'd broken into the back yard. "I don't know who lives here, Dawnie. Do you?"
Dawn nodded, her teeth beginning to chatter. "The Pattersons, I think. They handed out a whole bunch of candy to us the last year I went trick-or-treating on Halloween."
Buffy's mouth opened to correct her sister that those Sunnydale memories weren't to be trusted. She hastily closed this again at seeing Dawn's glower. "Okay, then, let's get inside and loot the place. It's no time to be fussy. The others sure won't. After that, we'll meet up in our new clothes with the guys at Angel's old mansion and figure out what to do next."
Turning around to stride towards the house's back door, Buffy missed how Dawn was about to say something herself, only to stop short and turn this into a sincerely evil grin. Even with such a wake-up call lately so to change Buffy into being as nicer as before, this Slayer well deserved some moments of serious payback.
Following after Buffy, Dawn couldn't help remembering, falsely or not, how Mr. and Mrs. Patterson each weighing over three hundred pounds had dressed up that Halloween to hand out candy as the Ghostbusters Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man and a circus bearded fat lady.
She was foreseeing a purple muumuu in one Buffy Summers' immediate future…