Buffy and Spike were in shuttle bay two, stuffing the shuttle with their — stuff. Buffy couldn't understand it. She and Spike arrived with just the clothes on their back. Giles was a little better prepared when he showed up, but she knew for a fact that he only brought three bags. Oh yeah — there was the box Tara sent through. And yet she was maneuvering the sixth and final crate into the back of the shuttle. The Starfleet people had tried to help, but Buffy figured they'd get the packing done a lot faster if they didn't have to work with those antigravity thingies.
"Spike?"
"Yeah?" He was trying to get clear of the crates well before Buffy boxed him in completely.
"Did you notice anything kind of — off about Giles this morning?"
"You mean the whole not-staking me when he found us asleep on the couch?" He inched his way past her, taking care not to let his duster get hung up on anything.
She looked up at him, a puzzled frown on her face and said, "Yeah. That."
Spike looked at her carefully, trying to figure out if she was joshing him or if she really was that blind. "You do remember sending him off to get his jollies with Meg last night, don't you?"
"I didn't — geez, Spike. Make it sound a little more sordid. I just figured they would — not —!" She wanted to stomp her foot. She glared at Spike, convinced that he was somehow responsible.
"What's the matter, pet? Jealous?" He didn't bother trying to hide his smirk. She was just so predictable sometimes, it was all he could do not to laugh.
"Jealous? Of what? No! Of course not!" She turned suddenly to make a wholly unnecessary adjustment to one of the crates.
"So you're not jealous that daddy's got a new girl?" His smirk was turning into a grin with each passing moment.
She rolled her eyes, making her disgust with him clear. "Oh, please. Why would I be jealous?"
Spike happened to be looking out the shuttle door when Meg walked in. He looked down at Buffy and said, "Maybe 'cause you've never looked like her the mornin' after." At Buffy's look of astonishment, he added, "I'm thinkin' I should have a talk with Rupert. Find out what his secret is."
"She looks even more blissed out than he did," she said, a note of wonder in her voice. "If you get him to share, you have to promise to tell me what he says."
He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Won't tell. But I might show."
She jabbed him hard with her elbow before leaving the shuttle to track everyone down.
Buffy was stewing over the unfairness of it all. They'd finally reached the planet, but instead of getting to go outside and breathe the fresh air (okay, it wasn't that fresh — hints of methane and sulfur did not make for a happy Buffy nose), she was stuck in the shuttle. All because the people she was supposed to be saving would get wigged if they saw the actual Chosen One. Worse still was that she was stuck in there alone. Spike, at least, could have stayed. She'd been in there for almost an hour now and was getting ready to storm the door when Giles finally came back. With a pile of leather.
"Um, Giles? What's that for?" As she eyed the leather, she started to get a bad feeling about it.
"They're for you and me to change into. Apparently what I chose to wear u-under my vestment was inappropriate," he answered. There was just a hint of bitterness in his voice. She wondered briefly what he would have sounded like if he and Meg hadn't had sex. Really good sex.
The thought of Giles and sex wigged her out sufficiently that she reacted with more outrage than strictly necessary when she said, "There's an actual wardrobe for this slayage?"
"Yes, there is. Now turn around so I can get dressed."
"I'll just leave —"
"You can't. They're still out there. Turn around, Buffy. Thank you," he said from behind her. "Once I've completed the ceremony accepting the request for intercession, then you can come out. The ceremony shouldn't take longer than, oh, twenty minutes or so. Also, I've had a chat with the First Minister. Turns out they've had a hellmouth open at some point in the last week or so. Some of the nastier varieties of demon have been showing up through it."
"Great. So now we have to close another hellmouth?"
"Only partly. Once I invoke the goddess and you're on your way with Data, the rest of us will go to the hellmouth, a-and I'll change it to a one-way portal — make sure no more demons can come through."
"Why not shut it down completely?"
"It's what they plan to use to send us home," he said. A quieter, "Blast it all to hell," followed shortly thereafter.
"Problems?"
"Bloody pants don't — oh. That's how. Got it, now," he answered.
"I still can't believe there's a big-ass demon — not to mention the smaller ones — munching down on the population, and they're worried about how we're dressed." She admitted to a preoccupation with fashion, but not the point of ignoring death and destruction. She decided her outrage was justified.
"They're concerned about following the prophecy —"
"But —"
"I'm finished dressing, now. I'll send Meg for you once I'm done. Go ahead and get changed," he said, leaving the shuttle before she could say anything else or even turn to see how he was dressed.
"Stupid portal. Stupid prophecy. Stupid Q," she muttered as she began to sort through the items Giles left. As she held each piece up, her dismay grew. She was actually supposed to fight in these things? Well, not her. Sendaru. But still, the goddess had to be able to use her body well enough to move around in, right? There was no way. Absolutely none.
It was as well that Giles had a ceremony to finish up before she emerged. It took all that time just to get into the things the Kamallys had sent, and she still wasn't sure she got it right. She heard a knock on the door just before Meg poked her head into the shuttle. "Buffy, Rupert says — good god, what the hell do they have you wearing!?"
Buffy looked up with a slightly twisted smile and said, "Rupert says all that? He hasn't even seen me yet."
"He'll have a heart attack when he does. Are you sure that's everything you're supposed to wear?"
"Yep. Just call me Slutty, the Vampire Slayer," Buffy said as she moved past Meg to get her first real look at the planet. She allowed herself a moment to consider with awe and wonder the fact that she was standing on a world that wasn't her own. Then she started yelling. "Q, you son of a bitch! If it's the last thing I do, I'll bury you head first in a pile of Fyarl snot. You get your ass down here, you bastard, and explain yourself!"
"Buffy, what on earth are you — oh, dear lord!" Giles was appalled by what he saw her wearing. Even the outfits she used to wear in high school were better than — that. The Kamalfitin had made black, lace-up, thigh-high moccasins for Buffy to wear over hip-hugging black leather pants. The pants were tied off in the same complicated fashion as his own, but they weren't really the worst part of the outfit. The top was little more than a black leather bra, and her breasts threatened to spill over the top of it. No wonder she was so angry. But why was she yelling at —
"Q? What's he to do with this?" Picard, apparently unaffected by Buffy's appearance, stepped up to her for an explanation.
She gestured to the outfit and said, "He's the prick who wrote the prophecy. If you ask me, he was way too influenced by the Anita Blake stories. I swear I'll eviscerate him if I ever get my hands on him again."
"Again? When did you meet him before?" Picard was angry.
"Yesterday morning. He stopped by during my workout. If I'd known he was going to dress me in this, I'd have done a lot more than punch him out," she answered, still looking down at herself. The pants and boots weren't half bad. They were definitely doable for down time at The Bronze. But the top? Geez. How Faith could a girl get?
"He was on my ship, and you didn't see fit to tell me?" His voice was low and carried a threat, but Buffy ignored the warning signs.
"Buffy, what do you mean? What does this Q thing have to do with the w-way you're d-dressed?" Giles had recovered enough from his initial shock at her appearance to be able to speak again. Spike was still doing a goldfish deal with his mouth. Worf thought she filled out the top nicely, but it was nothing compared to what Klingon women wore. Data merely recorded an image of Buffy and her feelings about the clothing, while Meg leaned against the shuttle and tried not to laugh.
Buffy answered Giles' question first, saying, "He's the one who wrote the prophecy." She turned back to Picard and said, "And what good would it have done to say anything? He was there for maybe ten minutes."
Picard answered before Giles could and said, "Q wrote the prophecy? Then what the hell are we doing here?"
Buffy looked at him as though he'd suddenly lost all mental capacity. "Hello? Big demon on the loose? More and more little demons coming through the Kamallys' brand-new hellmouth? Lots and lots of people getting killed? Is any of this sounding familiar? It doesn't matter who wrote the damn prophecy. The fact is that I can kill this thing — with the help of Sendaru — and probably save this world. None of those facts changed just because we happen to know who set everything in motion."
"I don't believe it. A human who actually grasps the big picture," said Q, from his perch in one of the trees.
They turned as one to look at him, but this time Giles got the first word in. He said, "You look a great deal like Geoffrey Cantor."
Buffy answered, "That's because he is Geoffrey Cantor. And how do you know what Geoffrey Cantor looks like?"
"There's a portrait of him in the Hall of Watchers. How did you know —"
"There's a Hall of Watchers? With portraits? What about the Slayers? Or don't we count?"
"Did I say that? No. I didn't. And of course there's a Hall of Slayers," he said, turning away from Q and Buffy to go over to a massive stone altar.
"How come my portrait's not there?" She followed him to the altar, ignoring Q. Much though she wanted to kick his ass, there was no way it was happening. At least not that day.
"Who said it wasn't?" He set a scroll down on the altar and started checking the various herbs he'd gathered together for the invocation.
"I go to all the trouble of responding to her demand that I appear, and now she ignores me," Q said to Picard. He sounded mortally offended.
"What did she mean when she said you wrote the prophecy they're following?" Picard might not be able to intimidate the others, but he could, on occasion, intimidate Q. This was one of those moments.
"I never sat for a portrait, Giles. I would have remembered," she said, her arms crossed in front of her.
"I realize that. I sent them your junior year picture," he said absently. "Get up on the altar. We need to begin."
She got up on the altar, but not quietly. She sounded a bit shrewish and whiney when she said, "My junior year picture!? I looked horrible that day! Remember? It was career day, and the Order of Taraka was after me. I had bed hair. A-and I was wearing that awful plaid shirt. Giles, please tell me you didn't send that picture in." By the time she finished, she was almost in tears.
"What difference does it make? Honestly, Buffy. Where's your sense of proportion?"
She arranged herself on the altar as they discussed and said, "Right where it's always been. All I know is that when we get back to Sunnydale, you're paying for a new portrait of me. And one of you and me together. And you, me and Dawn. And then I want one of you and Dawn."
"And then me with each of the Scoobies, yes, I understand," he said impatiently.
"No. Not them. Just you, me and Dawn," she said quietly.
He looked up at her then, and realized at that moment just how deeply affected she'd been by their separation. He sighed at the thought of it, but really, it had been necessary. If he hadn't gone, she would have never been prepared to deal with her life. He smiled and patted her knee, saying, "Very well. We'll have our portraits taken by a photographer you trust. Happy now?"
"Do you see that, Jean-Luc? She's still ignoring me," Q said.
"You know something, Q? I think she has the right idea," Picard said as he turned away and walked to the altar. Data had done a scan of it when they first landed. He said the stone had been laid some five thousand years earlier. The First Minister said it had been built with this day in mind, and had never been used until now. A pale orange moss clung to the seams between the stones and in the carvings that decorated the sides. The effect was both eerie and beautiful.
Giles turned to Picard when he approached, but said to the group at large, "Alright, everyone, places please. We can't allow anything to interfere with the invocation, so if the lesser demons approach, kill them." He was looking directly at Picard when he added, "Do not attempt to engage in dialogue with them. They will only be interested in killing you." Picard held Giles' gaze for a long moment before he finally nodded in acceptance.
Giles turned back to Buffy, who was still sitting on the altar, and handed her a stiletto. She said, "Gee. Pretty heavy duty weapon to bring down a little bitty thing like a full demon. Are you sure this isn't overkill?"
"Don't be absurd, Buffy. The knife is blessed. You'll use it to slice your palm open," he said, exasperated with her. He checked the book again.
"And I want to cut myself because —" She left the sentence hanging the way her biology professor used to. She even used the same slightly snarky tone of voice.
"It's up to you, but if you'd like me to survive this little exercise, I'll have a better chance if you voluntarily spill blood to protect me and mark me as yours," he snapped. He turned the book around and said, "Dip your finger into the blood, then use it to draw this symbol on my forehead. State my name, then announce that I'm your chosen Watcher. Add whatever threats you think appropriate to show that you're serious about wanting me alive."
"Appropriate threats?" Her eyebrows were raised as she toyed with the knife. He couldn't possibly be serious.
"Yes. And they should be specific as well. I once heard Willow tell Anya she would break her knee caps with a hammer if she ever hurt Xander. That sort of thing," he said.
"Really? I must rate over Xander then," she said as she positioned the blade over her left palm. "She told Riley she'd beat him to death with a shovel if he hurt me."
Giles watched her make a careful cut and said, "I don't know that you need to tell Xander that."
"Yeah. He's got enough issues as it is," she said somewhat absently as she watched her blood well up. She put the knife down then dipped her right index finger into the pooled blood. She raised her finger to Giles' face and drew the symbol. A mischievous impulse took hold of her as she said, "Rupert Giles is my chosen Watcher. Let all who see this symbol on his forehead tremble in fear at my wrath should anything attack him. I will rip out the offender's rib cage and use it as a magazine rack. I will tear off the offender's head and use it as a jello mold. I will gut the offender, pulling out the entrails to use as curtain tie-backs. I will —"
"Th-that's quite enough, I think," Giles said, interrupting her when he felt a brief surge of energy. He was grateful the spell was completed before she could get any more graphic. As it was, he was fairly certain he would never again eat jello at her house. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
"Just wanted to be clear on the consequences," she said, smothering a smirk at the look on Picard's face following her chant. It was even better than the look he had when she was bitching about her junior year picture. She could tell he thought she was nuts for obsessing over inconsequential details, but she really didn't care at this point. She'd spent a great deal time over the last few days firmly repressing anything remotely resembling doubt to let it show now. She and Giles — but really, all of them — needed to believe that she would come through the experience with flying colors. If they didn't, if they started to wonder about her ability to survive or Giles' ability to evict the goddess, they'd never be able to go through with it.
"Yes, yes. Fine," Giles said, eager to end the discussion and move on. "Data, please move to Buffy's right and slightly behind her. Once Sendaru is invoked, you will be the one to act as her guide and companion."
"Er, Rupes?" Spike had finally regained the power of speech. Hadn't been easy, especially since he knew just how close her nipples were to being exposed. He'd been a good little vampire over the last few days, but Buffy in leather had nearly undone him completely. And gods help him, her blood was making his mouth water.
"Yes?"
"Scroll said the soulless golden-eyed warrior was to be with her," Spike said casually. At least it was as casual as possible, with Buffy bent forward slightly. Just a bit more and she'd —
"Yes, it did." Giles frowned at Spike and said, "Given that you're a vampire, I felt it safer to send Data with her. I rather thought you would appreciate my concern for your undead arse."
"Oops," Buffy said, looking a bit guilty underneath her blush.
"Oops, what?" Giles was ordinarily a patient man, but he had the distinct feeling that Buffy was about to destroy that patience.
"Spike told me but I forgot to mention it and really I didn't think it was that big a deal but that's because I hadn't really read up on the prophecy and if you had been on the ball yourself you would have said something —"
"Buffy!"
"Data has a soul. Sorry," she said in a very small voice. It was all she could do to stop from asking Giles if he still loved her.
Spike walked over to Data and clapped him on the back, saying, "Looks like you're with the Watcher, mate."
Data, however, wasn't moving. He was too busy processing what he had just been told. Unfortunately, the processing wasn't working all that well. He looked at Picard. Had he been human, his expression would have been troubled. As it was, the best he could manage was puzzled. He said, "Sir?"
Picard had no answers, but given the way Giles accepted Buffy's statement on the matter, it was clear he accepted it as true. He gave Data a helpless look, unable to say anything, because Giles had begun to speak again. "Data, please move away to make room for Spike. Thank you. Buffy, you'll —"
"Yeah, yeah. Let's get started, okay?" She settled herself into the lotus position and watched Giles, waiting for him to begin.
He stood in front of her, his arms spread wide and a mild look of embarrassment on his face. His robe gaped open, showing the distinct lack of a shirt to go with his pretty leather pants. She arched an eyebrow at him and nearly lost it when a blush bloomed rosily on his cheeks. His glare dared her to speak, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything. "Vessel of Sendaru, I beg you," he began, "The Kamalfitin have a need greater than all the world. Will you come to their aid?"
"Sure," she said, grinning at the look on his face. It was his own fault for following a script.
He gave her an aggrieved look before saying, "Now that the formalities have been taken care of, it's time for you to find your center. Will you be able to concentrate during all the chanting?"
"Yeah. Not sure about the incense, though. Even unlit, it's making me want to sneeze," she said.
"It can't be helped, I'm afraid." He squeezed her knee lightly and said, "Right then. Time to get on with it."
As Giles began the ritual, he tuned everything out, trusting the others to keep them safe until Sendaru was fully realized in this universe. The magic he was calling, both from within and from without, would no doubt attract a great deal of the wrong kind of attention. He could only hope the Kamalfitin would keep the bulk of the lesser demons away from them. His magic rose easily, and he felt a twinge of unease. If it rose this quickly under stress, he would have a difficult time of it in the days ahead as he continued to regain control of it. "Sendaru, I beg you to answer," he said at the right moment. He had gone over the invocation several times with an eye to making it less obnoxious. There was no need to antagonize her before she ever arrived, so rather than command her, he implored her. Deeper into the ceremony, he finally started to hit the outer edges of his power, and a light sheen of sweat covered him as he exerted himself to reach that final phase of the spell.
Buffy lost track of where Giles was spell-wise. She had found her center and was busy raising a wall around it. She wanted it to be perfectly clear to the goddess that this was Buffy's territory. She was willing to share for a little while, but at the end of it all, Miss Black Mist 2002 was getting the hell out of town. Her skin tingled as she heard bits and pieces of the invocation. She identified the cause as Giles' magic, and she realized that it and the spell were reaching a fever pitch. Just as she put the last brick in place to complete the wall around her center, she heard Giles scream, "SENDARU, COME!"
Buffy opened her eyes to see the first tendril of black mist curl around Giles' chest. She glared at it, but it did nothing more than test his boundaries. When it reached the symbol on his forehead, she saw the dried blood flare brightly before going back to its brownish color. And then the mist curled toward her. She steeled herself not to react and waited. When it touched her arm, it felt ice cold for a moment, and then it burned. She clenched her jaw against the pain and waited for the goddess to start coming in.
When she felt the first tendrils of an alien conscious, she sent out a thought: I'm not giving up my body. When the time comes for you to leave, you leave. Got it? She thought she felt a vague sense of assent, but no more than that. It would have to do. Buffy retreated into her tower and waited.
Giles had broken into a cold sweat when Sendaru tested his defenses. He hadn't been entirely certain the goddess would acknowledge Buffy's right to offer her protection, and he'd been thankful when she had. He watched as Sendaru hesitated slightly at Buffy's arm, then jerked in horror as the mist lost all tentativeness and engulfed Buffy's slight form. When the mist disappeared, what was left was a woman with black hair. Violet eyes glared at Giles, promising death if he made one wrong move.
Sendaru was in the house.