Disclaimer: I do not own any characters relating to either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Stargate SG-1. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only and does not provide any financial compensation.
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Return To Normal
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Chapter Twenty Four
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Jack O'Neill loved kids the way other men loved carpentry, or fixing cars, or a good hand in poker. To his way of thinking they were ephemeral, abstract, something to be appreciated from a distance but never, ever permitted to achieve a significant emotional impact. He honestly loved children, and considered their protection to be the highest calling any man might seek to achieve. No doctor who saved a child's life would ever have to pay for a drink while in his vicinity, and no alien despot who harmed a child would ever be safe from his inexorable wrath. Since the death of his son, however, those feelings had been carefully controlled, reserved for 'children' in the abstract sense. He no longer had a son these principles might apply to directly. He never would again.
Losing Charlie still caused him barely endurable pain. The intense grief of losing his son had caused him to seriously consider taking his own life, and later to accept suicidal assignments which might give him a chance to die with the kind of honor he no longer believed he was entitled to. Over the years things had gotten, if not exactly better, then more manageable, the despair fading to melancholia, the depression hidden behind a more socially-acceptable sarcastic cynicism. Only his closest friends would notice his emotional brittleness around kids these days, and know why he didn't let them get too close.
Jack O'Neill was never asked to play Santa Claus at Christmas parties.
Only his closest friends knew why.
Before she left with the hand-picked force which would attack the Portal Facility, Sam Carter paused, and looked directly into her superior officer's eyes, holding them with a gaze they tried not to use around each other. They wanted to work together, and that work was so important nothing could be permitted to come before it. But when nearly two thousand young women and girls were involved in a battle which was about to become increasingly bloody Carter couldn't help but be concerned. Worried in a way that wasn't entirely professional. Not a word was spoken, but much was communicated; concern, reassurance, compassion, gratitude. Carter smiled in acknowledgement as she moved out with her group, the swift glance missed by everyone else, the momentary, silent exchange virtually encapsulating their entire relationship.
The fact that so much could not be said.
The fact that so much was none the less communicated.
As she turned away without a backwards glance, Sam Carter knew that her friend would survive what was about to happen. He wouldn't like it, and like the rest of them his dreams would be haunted for some time to come once it was all over. But he, like the rest of them, knew what was at stake. Knew that some things were worth fighting for. Knew that when you fought over something, people were going to get hurt. Usually they tried to keep the women and children out of it. That was part of their moral code, a fundamental part of the psychological underpinning of their societal image. In this case the women and children were the ones who were going to be doing the majority of the fighting, and it wasn't something any of them embraced with glee, congratulating themselves on their enlightened non-sexist attitudes. This was simply necessary, and they would deal with the aftermath once it was over as well as they could.
Carter had no real problem working with Ash Fenton, despite the fact that he was a sexist jerk who was quite simply incapable of looking at her as an officer in the US Air Force. To Ash she would always be a woman first, and a soldier second… maybe third, since he had a grudging respect for scientists, and a not-so-grudging respect for her work as a scientist. It was tough to be indignantly angry with a man who was unquestionably ready to take a bullet for her, but Carter did mildly resent the fact that he refused to recognize that she didn't want anyone to die for her. All her life she'd been treated as someone 'special.' Smarter, prettier in her younger days, more athletic, more competent than just about anyone else around her. A rare jewel to be admired and protected. It made her want to scream with frustration. She wasn't better than other people! She wanted use her skills to protect them from whatever evil lurked in the shadows!
She often wondered what her life might have been like had the StarGate not dropped into her lap like a gift from Heaven. It had offered her a chance to use all of her formidable skills to save the entire world from alien enemies! This was not a job for a 'rare jewel' or a pampered princess. This was a deadly serious and seriously deadly job being fought in the shadows by the most serious, most deadly warriors in the known universe. And she was one of them.
If only Colonel Fenton would realize that.
----
Already Fenton's men were surrounding her in a protective cordon as they penetrated deeper into the Compound. Trying not to openly grit her teeth in frustrated annoyance, Carter couldn't help but recall that these same men had quite cheerfully tried to hunt down and 'kill' Buffy Summers during innumerable exercises. Not one of them would have even considered getting in her way out of some misguided sexist notion of 'protecting' her. Part of it was because Buffy's incredible gifts did not threaten them. Her special abilities were the result of magic, not inherent skill, so could be dismissed as an 'unfair,' not to mention unrealistic standard to which they could only measure their own deadly talents.
Carter recognized that there was another reason they could laugh and joke with Buffy but could not with her. Unlike Carter, Buffy was not in the military, and had absolutely no interest in joining up. Not being one of them, she did not threaten them in any way. In many ways they were comfortable with her because she was so good at what she did: but what she did wasn't what they did. They were soldiers; she was not. She was a slayer, which meant she had a very specific job to do. So long as she confined herself to handling that job, there was no conflict. Should she decide to branch out into areas were not within her particular mandate, however, things had the potential to get interesting. Since anyone charged with the task of taking down someone like her who had gone 'rogue' would have to be the very best, her incredible abilities reinforced their own perceptions of themselves as the 'best of the best.'
Unlike Buffy however, Carter was 100 human, and it would bother them a great deal if she proved herself 'better' than them at their chosen profession. They were okay with her being smarter, but each of them thought they would have made a good ninja, and no egghead was going to show them up. Carter threatened their self-image in a way Buffy never would.
For the first part of the mission they were accompanied by a protective escort of eight slayers, all of whom could have taught even ninjas a thing or two about silent infiltration. The men didn't know these girls and didn't look at them with the respect they accorded Buffy, but Fenton had come up with a pretty good motive to have them along even if they did threaten their masculinity. If any of the opposing slayers showed up unexpectedly he'd much rather their slayers do their 'kung-fu' shit on them, rather than have his people blow away teenage girls with their silenced P90's. Everyone agreed, and was pleasantly surprised when they turned out not to be needed. The initial stages of the attack had gone so well that opposition forces hadn't even covered their avenue of approach, too busy trying to push back the main –although actually diversionary—Ronin salient thrusting in from the western wall.
There were slayers defending the Portal Facility, an ugly block of a building located next to the largest structure in the Compound, where dozens of opposition slayers could be seen running around, yelling incoherently, and in general giving a very good impression of being completely out of their depth and incapable of figuring out what they were supposed to do. Fenton wasn't surprised. Fighting skill alone did not a soldier make. With little training or inherent talent, when they were forced to adapt most slayers simply were not capable of making the required mental adjustments. Truth be told, ninjas had sucked as soldiers too.
Faith had briefed their escort very carefully, and without a word being said they scattered to silently take down each of the guards, where they would remain in their place until they were inevitably challenged. This allowed Fenton and his group to get close enough to study the building in hopes of figuring out a way in. 'Fortress' didn't do it justice. The structure was built of steel-reinforced concrete with walls five feet thick. These were further enhanced by mystical wards none of the SGC tools could crack.
Nothing they had short of Illyria at full throttle would be able to open it. It had been hoped they wouldn't have to bring in their Big Gun just for this purpose, but it had always been considered a possibility. They were a good ten minutes ahead of schedule, even though they'd gone to great effort to hold back the excited Ronin who wanted to exploit their unexpected advantage, but it wouldn't be long before the vampires and demon clans were unleashed. The fact that the opposition had been caught completely by surprise, and their initial defensive efforts had proven to be so incompetently executed, had come as a pleasant surprise to the attackers. No one thought the same would be true for those supernatural beasts. Fenton had spent a lot of time with his group working on their anti-vampire tactics, which would exploit the fact that he didn't give a flying fuck if they 'didn't respect' anyone who used modern weaponry. Those who survived what he planned on dropping on their undead asses would learn a whole new meaning for the word 'respect.'
A quick inspection of the massive armored door made it pretty clear they wouldn't be able to bypass the locking system using any of their fancy toys. Between the mystical wards and the sheer strength of the materials, even the powerful explosives they had brought along with them were unlikely to so much as scratch the paint. Not to mention that using them would attract too much attention, and they were now far too deep inside enemy territory to have much chance of escaping if they were discovered. Their choices were rather limited. They could use the Mutari-thing to endow Illyria with some kind of magical uber-viagra to return her flaccid powers to their full youthful god-like vitality and vigor, and she would almost certainly be able to get them inside the building one way or another. But with no sign of the First, and the ancient god-king-queen-lizard-whatever having a hard limit on her period of tumescent glory once fully erect, so to speak, they wouldn't be able to accomplish much beyond destroying the portal itself. The First could rebuild it, and they would be pretty much fucked.
Option Two wasn't much better, but was the one they were going with anyway. Silently, using only hand signals, Fenton ordered his people to spread out and conceal themselves. He didn't like that. There weren't many places to hide, and even stripped down to bare minimum the assault team was bigger than he'd have liked. Besides him there were four of his best men, Major Carter as head geek, Dawn Summers to translate anything they found that might tell them how to shut down the portal, a goddamn vampire accompanying her because her people believed he was mentioned in some kind of half-assed prophesy, and one of Riley Finn's men, Lt. Forrest Gates, who had more time on station than anyone else so was his local expert.
It wasn't that Fenton didn't trust the slayers… it was just that he trusted his own people a helluva lot more. He sure as hell didn't trust the fucking vampire! But when you added everyone up, it was more likely than not that someone would be detected before the First arrived. Fenton was in no mood to risk either his or his people's collective asses just to delay the inevitable for a few weeks. He didn't know what Buffy had in mind, but knew that she wasn't interested in anything which didn't leave the First a seriously dead corpse, one preferably with head and entrails spread to the four winds, and he intended to cut her all the slack she would need to accomplish such a satisfying outcome.
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Running from Willow's Lair, the First noticed the alternate-Buffy facing off against Kennedy and one of her bodyguards, but didn't pause to offer assistance. Taking care of Buffy was Kennedy's job, although it didn't really matter to the First whether or not she succeeded. All that was necessary was that she divert the seer from concentrating on the visions which might give her enemies a viable plan to disrupt the First's own grand scheme. The whole point of going after Rupert Giles in the first place had been to ensure that Buffy built up such an overwhelming hatred of Kennedy that she would be diverted from her primary duty, no matter how important that mission was, just for the opportunity to get her hands around Kennedy's throat. That part of the First's plan, as with most of the others, appeared to be succeeding admirably.
Seconds later the First got an up-close-and-personal look at what happened when things didn't go according to plan when a missile took out the Lair with a devastating explosion which knocked her flying. For long seconds she scrambled around, trying to regain her feet, watching in horror as the Lair was completely annihilated. For a minute or two she didn't even consider the indignity of the failure of her defensive systems, such minor concerns buried under her apparent miscalculation that her enemies wouldn't target Willow, and couldn't succeed in getting through to her even if they did. Willow wasn't absolutely critical to the overall plan –there were other ways to sacrifice 1500 slayers, although they all involved a lot more bloodshed than using Willow to do it would entail—but that momentary concern was alleviated seconds later when Willow emerged from the wreckage.
So far as the First was concerned, the actual de-powering spell was rather anti-climactic. It was already operating so many orders of magnitude below its 'normal' abilities that losing a few minor tweaks to the host's native capacity regarding strength and speed were relatively trivial. It was underestimating Buffy that caused the First a momentary twinge of concern. It hadn't expected the pathetic human to actually try to kill Willow, and certainly had never expected her to come close to succeeding! Even if it hadn't been her idea to do so, the fact that she was willing to listen to competent people and follow their suggestions was unexpected. Not that the First expected her to amount to much of a challenge, even if she did manage to eke out a few minor tactical victories, but it hadn't expected to suffer the effects of ECF either. One of the reasons the First was devoting so much in the way of resources to fighting a precog was that it did not wish to be caught by such surprises.
Between its own relative weakness and occasional attacks of ECF it took the First much longer than usual to reach the Command Center, where now-ex-slayers were freaking out over their unexpected return to the human average. Many, as they had been conditioned to do, turned to her for orders, unwilling to act on their own initiative despite the obvious implications of their situation. The First immediately proceeded to issue a string of orders to deploy those remaining loyal forces, acting so calm and decisive that most of them instinctively rushed to obey. Few paused to consider those orders, or realize they were intended to leave them vulnerable to the vampires the First was about to unleash, which would force the invaders to expend resources to save them. The First had long since noticed that the 'good guys' tended to respond with such counter-productive measures in order to maintain their self-image, even when it would be far more effective for them to concentrate on their own business and leave such idiots to their fate.
Which was one out of several thousand reasons why the First figured only imbeciles fought for the 'good' side. 'Enlightened self interest' was a much better motivator. Emphasis on the 'self-interest' part.
More to keep the enemy occupied than out of any actual desire to achieve anything productive, the First sat into its Control station and enabled codes it had set up for just such an eventuality. One of the reasons it had put such extensive efforts into gaining political control was to be able to act quickly when this particular moment arrived. Special 'disaster' protocols were enabled, convincing DOD computers that Cleveland was being overrun by the hordes of Hell. Missiles were launched. Aircraft were scrambled. Contingency plans were activated.
Not to mention that every ten minutes, another city would disappear in a ghastly burst of nuclear fire.
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For several long seconds they all stood still, looking towards Willow, each wondering what the witch intended to do. After just being walloped by a rather impressive missile Buffy figured Will wouldn't be too happy with her, even discounting the terrible reason that missile had been triggered in the first place. Given that they were still occasional bedmates, Kennedy had more reason to hope that she still had some influence with the witch, although it made her a bit nervous to realize that Willow had just revoked the Activation spell without even discussing it with her first. It was a pretty clear indication that Willow wasn't especially happy with her either. So after first shouting at her remaining bodyguard "Grab her!" with a nod towards a stunned-looking Buffy, Kennedy slowly made her way over towards where the girl stood, bleeding from multiple lacerations, in the still-burning wreckage of what minutes earlier had been her seemingly-impregnable Lair.
The bodyguard was big, but not too bright, and hadn't come to terms with the fact that she no longer had slayer powers. Or perhaps she simply realized that neither did Buffy, and given their size disparity the tiny girl didn't appear to represent much of a threat. She never had the time to understand that Buffy had been through this before, and had gone to considerable effort the last time she awoke without slayer powers to develop a self-defense regime suitable for someone of her size and athletic abilities. Big as she was, the bodyguard's arms were not as strong as Buffy's legs, and a full-power kick suddenly smashed into her abdomen with enough force to knock the wind out of her. That kick would barely have been noticed by a slayer. But since she no longer was a slayer, the girl lost her balance and went down, gasping for breath, not even seeing the follow-up kick that smashed into her jaw hard enough to knock her out cold.
Knowing that if Willow turned against her she was doomed, and even if she didn't actually help Kennedy hunt her down the effects of ECF would soon overwhelm her, Buffy turned and ran. Seeking out the shadows, she searched for somewhere to hide until either the attack was over or the First entered the Portal and ended it all permanently. Without her own slayer powers she no longer possessed her previously amazing parkour skills, but she did have her own inherent natural athletic talent, and managed to climb up the side of a small, flat-roofed building just before she was overcome by the violent, uncontrollable shaking which signified the onset of an ECF attack.
Which meant that the First was still around. Nothing had been settled.
Not yet, at least.
----
Fenton was amazed when the slayers –all of them; his and the opposition girls as well-- simultaneously cried out in agony. Most of them fell to the ground, rolling about, lethargic and weak and sobbing. It took only a second for him to realize what had just happened. He turned to face Dawn Summers, his expression openly impressed. "Holy shit! She did it! I figured this abortion was doomed from the start. No way that crazy bitch was gonna drop the spell. How the hell did Buffy even get the goddamned Scythe to her?! Color me impressed. Big Sis nailed this one right down the line, kid."
Nodding almost reluctantly, Dawn had to agree. They'd gone with Buffy's plan because she was the only one with reliable visions suggesting they might actually succeed, but some of their seers had privately expressed concern that there was no way to corroborate her visions, and much reason to doubt them. Nobody else was seeing anything so clearly, beyond a few obvious points that even those without precognitive abilities could predict simply because their plans required them to take place before they could proceed any further. It was obvious to Dawn that the First was using every technique in the book to disrupt precognitive functions, yet so far Buffy had called this one perfectly. It didn't fit in with what she knew of such psychic talents, and she wondered how Buffy was doing it.
Not that she intended to argue with success. So long as Buffy kept calling them right, nobody was going to change course. As called for in the plan, their now-redundant escort ran back towards the nearest safe haven. There SGC troops were already establishing defensive positions in order to fight off the demon attack they expected any minute, as the final rays of the setting sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Everyone was disappointed but not really surprised when their anti-air defenses suddenly cut loose, a combination of Goa'uld and human technologies unleashing a massive barrage into the darkening sky, which was suddenly lit up by brilliant explosions as distant incoming missiles ran into a defensive grid never previously seen on this planet.
Right on cue there was a thundering roar as hordes of demons and vampires suddenly came pouring out from their underground holding facilities. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds of girls, walking with expressions ranging from despondency to outrage back towards the Slayers Inc. central command post after abandoning the fight at the Compound walls when their slayer powers disappeared, were overrun by wave after wave of inhuman, bloodthirsty monsters who gleefully slaughtered them where they stood. Without saying a word Fenton met the eyes of his own team with a hard glare, silently ordering them to stand down and remain in position, despite the carnage going on around them. The plan had predicted this, and follow-up forces would be arriving momentarily. But it left a bad taste in their mouths to watch dozens of young women and girls be torn to pieces before their eyes, screaming in outrage and agony, and not be allowed to do anything about it.
Despite the screams of the dying and the thundering roar of the guns Fenton was not so distracted that he missed the approach of the First, who arrived at the Portal Facility just about bang-on their projected time-line. She was accompanied by a half-dozen guards, only two of them human, and through the lens of his 'scope Fenton could see the shimmering transparent plane of some kind of force-screen protecting the entire group. Annoying, but once again not unexpected. With all the monsters now running around the Compound it was inevitable that some of them would be able to use magic. Or at least use it well enough to prevent Fenton from taking out the First with one perfectly-placed bullet right between the bitch's eyes.
She was, Fenton admitted, a physically attractive woman. Buffy herself was a bit too young for his taste, but he took a few seconds to consider looking her up in five or ten years once she'd grown up a bit. Anyone who could plan a campaign this well and look that hot after she turned thirty was someone he might want to get to know better. The thought was only fleeting, barely reaching Fenton's consciousness as he re-re-evaluated their decision to hold off until the First had already entered the Facility. They had anticipated that she would surround herself with her most powerful magic-users before reaching the combat zone. They had known that their own wizards wouldn't be available to stop her, as they could not be risked until the spell was dropped. Given those two facts, the only thing they had available that stood a chance of taking her out was Illyria, and if they unleashed their Big Gun too early she would take out most of Cleveland when she blew.
It had also been determined early on that an Asgard transporter wouldn't work to 'beam' them into outer space before they went nuclear. Illyria had some kind of mental control over portals which extended even to the transporter, and it was assumed the First had some similar ability. This left the First's portal their only viable option for getting the god-like beings off earth before Illyria's containment suit failed. Which, in turn, meant they had to let the First enter the Portal Facility unopposed. Only when the timing met Buffy's exacting criteria could they use the Mutari-thing to return Illyria her Austin Powers-level mojo. There was an obvious down-side to that plan. Since nobody had a clear idea of what sort of defenses were emplaced within the Portal Facility, given his druthers, Fenton would have rather attacked while the enemy was relatively exposed outside and taken his chances on opening the door to the Facility afterwards.
Buffy had said no. She wasn't around to enforce her orders, but given that she hadn't steered him wrong so far, Fenton was inclined to go along with her this time despite his own preferences. So they watched the group approach the squat building, the guards surrounding the First protectively as she did something to the controls around the door. The minute that door started to open, Fenton looked over towards Dawn, raising one eyebrow questioningly.
She, in turn, faced Illyria, who stood tall and arrogant in her dark red exoskeleton, observing the happenings surrounding her with an expression of distain, neither excitement nor trepidation evident on her disconcertingly human-looking face. "Last chance to back out."
Generally Illyria did not look at Dawn like she was something she was being forced to scrape from the bottom or her shoe, but at these namby-pamby words she did look at her with something close to the expression of contempt she bestowed on most humans. "We waste time with your redundant bleatings. This decision was made long ago. Conditions have not sufficiently altered during the interim to warrant amending that choice. You waste valuable time seeking meaningless reassurances. Do what must be done."
As Dawn brought up Sam Carter's kludge of a home-built Mutari Generator, Illyria considered saying something further, admitting that after all this time among them she finally thought she understood slayers, and perhaps even humanity in general. As a god, Illyria had never previously needed to consider the concept of 'mortality.' She was eternal. Or at least, she had been. Her internal debate over accepting the need to restore her powers, even if it should end up costing her life, had been a revelation. Only facing such a choice herself and permitted Illyria to understand that many slayers faced a similar dilemma. They were granted great power, at the price of a significantly shortened lifespan. In truth many humans sought similar trade-offs, accepting long-term damage to their health and potential longevity for the momentary adulation of athletic greatness. For millennia Illyria had considered them to be fools, the ephemeral glory unworthy of the inevitable cost. But now, facing a similar choice herself for the first time, Illyria understood why some might accept such a trade-off.
There was quite literally no price Illyria was unwilling to pay to get another shot at the First. Illyria had never been one to forgive a grudge, and her raging antipathy for the First could only be denied by the fact that her powers, confined as she was to a weak human shell, were such a pale shadow of her former abilities that the First would have no difficulty swatting her aside as if she were nothing more than a minor insect. Illyria had once been a god among gods! The most powerful beings in the known universe had once trembled before her wrath! It was… undignified… for someone such as her to be reduced to a state of such pathetic insignificance.
Illyria knew what would happen to her once the Mutari effect was reversed. The vampire had not lied to her. Within minutes the containment vessel would destabilize and she would die. Or at least be reduced to component packets of isolated energy, forever unable to reconsolidate, mindlessly drifting ever further apart throughout a dead universe for all eternity. But during those few minutes before it failed she would be able to inflict the sort of wrathful vengeance which had once made the very name Illyria inspire terror throughout the known universe. 'One last shot at glory' or not, it was worth the price. With a final nod she braced herself, and waited for the Key to restore her to what she once was, so that she might face her enemies as she truly was, and not the pale shadow of that godlike being she had become.
----
Entering the giant chamber that was the Portal Facility's sole room, the First casually flicked a few switches to turn on the lights –as well as many other things—and smiled at the hideous sucking wound in space that hung in the air at the center of the room, surrounded by rings of steel wrapped in literally miles of superconducting wire. Even the screaming sound of the air being sucked into the roiling black and grey vortex wasn't loud enough to overpower the noise of some kind of disturbance behind her, but the First didn't bother to turn around to see what was causing it, preferring to continue walking towards the main control apparatus closer to the center of the room.
The First already knew exactly what was causing that disturbance.
She could almost feel the universe tremble as Illyria was suddenly restored to her terrible ancient glory.
Unlike the universe, the First did not tremble in fear with the realization. Occasionally a reputation for impatience came in handy. For instance, the First had been concerned that someone might question why it had completed work on the portal so quickly, when it need only have waited a few more years for an extra thousand or so slayers to be Called. Those extra slayers would have provided enough power on their own to open the portal all the way to its intended destination, without requiring an additional energy source to break through the final seal. Had anyone wondered, they might have eventually figured out that 'power' alone would not be enough to broach that final barrier. There was a mystical seal in place to prevent anyone from doing what the First intended to do, and in her presently mundane incarnation she lacked the ability to smash through that final seal.
It took more than mere power to break such a seal. It took a special kind of mystical energy, an ability to manipulate space and time uncommon even among gods. In fact, so far as the First knew, only a few even among the Old Gods had the power to do so. Among those Old Gods only Illyria happened to be available. And Illyria had been neutered, her powers emasculated to the point where she was no more powerful than one of the half-breeds she had once kept in thrall by the billions. None the less, only Illyria could broach that final seal, and she had to do it of her own free will. Quite literally nothing could compel her to do so. Illyria did not feel pain or hunger or fear. Just as nothing could force her to reassume her powers. Illyria had to voluntarily permit the Mutari effect to be reversed, even knowing it would inevitably lead to her death. Somehow she had to be persuaded to do so, because only if Illyria reassumed her powers would she be able to blow through the seal blocking access to the final destination the First's portal needed to reach.
It had been easy enough to kill two birds with one stone by modifying the plans to the Mutari device to automatically open all sealed dimensional barriers while it restored Illyria's powers. Those plans were conveniently left unprotected for her opponents to steal and use to build what they would never realize was a very slightly altered version of the real Mutari Generator. Had the ancient god-king rejected the restoration of her own power she would leave the barrier forever sealed. By accepting it, she had unknowingly, simultaneously, opened every seal isolating portals the ancient gods had considered too dangerous to be broached. All of them, everywhere. Simply by restoring Illyria's power, all demon dimensions were now accessible. Along with the distant, unnatural space the First so desperately sought to reach.
It was one thing to win. It was just so much more satisfying to win by making your opponents unwittingly grant you victory on a silver platter.
The First could not prevent herself from laughing uproariously, even as her enemies charged into the Portal Facility, following an ancient god-king restored to her full glory, exulting in her god-like power. A god-king who didn't have the slightest clue what awaited her.
----
They had been too far away for Buffy to hear what Willow and Kennedy had discussed, but it had taken enough time for her to get over the latest episode of ECF and recover some of her flagging strength. Even better, Kenn had not convinced Willow to send her to the Gobi Desert with a wave of her hand, and she seemed pretty put out by that failure. Not so put out that she did something stupid and pissed off Willow any more than she already was, given that Willow was still a witch, and Kennedy was no longer a slayer. The power balance in their relationship had just shifted dramatically, and Kenn did not appear to be too thrilled to discover just how little influence she now possessed over her former girlfriend.
From her distant perch atop a small out-building Buffy kept an eye on them, knowing Willow could see her, and knowing there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it if her one-time friend decided to take exception to her lobbing a bomb on top of her. She had no idea how this was going to play out. The First's machinations meant that her dreams of this confrontation were all over the map, with none providing an accurate vision of the true outcome. She hadn't lied to Xander about what she saw. In most of her visions Willow had died in the explosion after killing Xander. The fact that she hadn't died this time, in addition to her shutting down the Activation spell afterwards, suggested pretty strongly that someone else had killed Xander, but he'd survived long enough to warn her to get her shields up. There wasn't much doubt as to who that 'someone else' had to be. Which meant, Buffy figured, that Willow was probably just as mad at the First as she was with Buffy herself.
Based on the gestures she could make out, Buffy assumed Kenn was arguing, trying to suck up, occasionally pushing things but backing off quickly when Willow made it abundantly clear that she was done with being pushed around. Her hair and eyes remained completely black, which Buffy did not take as a good sign. But she hadn't whistled up a battleship and dropped it on top of Buffy's little hideout either, which she took as a rather good sign. Given the situation, she'd take any 'good' signs she could get.
Finally it appeared that discussions were over. When Kennedy turned away Willow didn't stop her, but didn't go with her either. She quite deliberately turned her back, looking towards the sound of the battle, observing the distant explosions lighting up the sky as Buffy's allies held off the forces the First was sending against them. Leaving Kennedy to walk towards the building where Buffy was hiding, neither of them armed with either weapons or superpowers, where their final confrontation would finally take place.
Leaving them to decide the matter on their own.
Buffy could have kissed her old friend for the unexpected indulgence.
----
The wizards had been brushed aside like the vermin they were. The door to the Facility was already closed, but Illyria didn't even bother to smash it open. A simple wave of her hand and a portal was opened right through the wall, into the building, allowing Illyria, followed quickly by Fenton and his team, to enter only a few seconds behind the First. Even the best training couldn't prevent the others from glancing nervously towards the hideous roiling waves of black pus and bile-green foam churning within the portal, which was about half the size of the StarGate back home, and its opposite in every way they could imagine. Instead of a shimmering wall there was a vortex leading down into a bleak, bottomless pit. Atavistic reaction caused the tiny hairs on their arms and the back of their necks to stand in fear. Humans were smart; but their ancestors had responded to more subtle signals. All of those ancestral warnings were screaming that they were looking at something fundamentally, hideously, unnaturally evil.
Forcing himself to turn away from what he knew he would always refer to as 'the Mouth of Hell,' Fenton silently got everyone's attention and gestured for them to deploy. Without knowing the internal layout of the Facility he had to make things up on the fly, but it wasn't all that complicated. One room, filled to the brim with computers and transformers and electrical conduit and science shit. Walkways made of steel grating led over and around obstacles, as nothing could interfere with the required geometric perfection of the regulatory systems. Fenton considered tossing a few grenades, but had no idea if it would do any good and Illyria wasn't waiting for them so he had little choice but to get his people moving and follow her. Power seemed to exude from her in waves, and the controlled lightning flashing in billions of static discharges between the conduits under the steel mesh walkway seemed to shift and sway like dancing sprites as she passed overhead.
Silently, rapidly, they approached the center of the Facility and its hideous portal, carefully searching for the First, knowing she was now only a few feet away from them, but still hidden behind intervening equipment.
Weapons held at the ready, preparing everyone for the final push forward, Fenton was caught completely by surprise when Illyria suddenly stopped, screamed in agony, and fell forward, never bending, dropping like a felled tree. A fraction of a second later he and everyone else was slammed down to the steel deck, bands of energy surrounding them, pain filling them as electrical discharges shot through and around their immobile bodies.
And for the second time, they heard the First laugh at them in triumph.
----
The First slowly approached the team who had dared to invade its realm, had dared to challenge its might, and smiled at their debasement. Illyria was screaming, not even a god-king capable of withstanding the forces the First was channeling through its body. Had she been able to speak, the First imagined Illyria would be attempting to express her surprise that she could, in fact, experience pain after all. A stunning turn of events the First had deliberately kept a secret until then, its effect unexpected…shocking, even, to the unfortunate victim.
Alas, the Old One was in no position to appreciate the First's little surprise. It could not even think through waves of intense pain, its mind almost shattered by the agony as its intrinsic constituent energies were being ripped from every component of its very being. When whipping up its plans for a modified Murtari Generator, the First had studied the device very carefully. What it had discovered would have amazed Earth's best scientists. The same principles which had allowed Angel to contain Illyria's runaway power could be used for other purposes. Rather than bleed those energies into other dimensions, they could be tapped directly, stolen, used! Giant streamers of glowing eldritch energy emerged from Illyria's eyes and mouth, the ends of her fingers, blue lightning-like plasma being channeled into intensely brilliant bands of confined energy so bright they would fry the eyes of anyone foolish enough to stare at them directly.
Standing near her opponent, out of the way of the powerful beam of the raw mystical energy being sucked from the prone god, the First stood over her, gloating in victory, knowing Illyria wouldn't be able to hear her but incapable of holding back some sort of verbal expressions of her triumph. "Go ahead; fight it! Try to resist! The more you fight it, the easier it will be to drain you of all of your power! I'll leave you a desiccated husk, like an Egyptian mummy!" Turning her mad, triumphant gaze on Fenton, she smiled, an expression which had him swallowing in atavistic fear. "Do you see it, little man? The power of a god! Sucked out as if the Mighty Illyria Herself were nothing more than a walking battery! The greatest of the Old Ones, brought down by Me using only such resources as are available to one of your pathetic race! No wonder they fear your kind! Tiny, insignificant nothings, who none the less have the capacity –if not the ability!--to build devices which are able to steal the powers of a god!
"They could never have imagined it might be even possible!
"But that is why I chose to become one of your kind in the first place, little man! Great things are possible from such as you, even if your kind is not capable of greatness! None of the Elder Gods foresaw this! Using only the tools available to barely sentient sacks of protoplasm such as you, I have managed to undo all of the measures they used to contain Me! You can see the portal changing, stretching, reaching into the vast 'nothingness' which exists between universes, higher-order dimensions being manipulated by energies capable of shattering suns! The power Illyria is channeling in order to accomplish this feat would drain one of your precious ZPM's in a small fraction of a second, and she has been pumping out such energies for more than a minute now! What is being done here is not meant to be seen by the likes of you. I doubt if your pathetic excuses for 'minds' are even capable of observing the reality of the shifting dimensional structures the vortex is seeking as it struggles to reach a stable configuration within the portal.
"It will take energies beyond your imagination to reach a pseudo-stable self-sustaining high-order dimensional configuration in something which isn't really 'space' as you understand it. This sort of manipulation of space and time is meant for the Gods Themselves! Grovel in appreciation, dog! You are witnessing something your kind will never see again. And it will be the last thing you will ever see!"
Cursing his helplessness, Fenton struggled to free himself, knowing it was futile even as he tried. The bonds holding him down were not physical, could not be bypassed or broken. Bands of sheer energy trapped them as effectively as if they were made of steel. He could move, slightly, but the harder he pushed, the more resistant whatever force field was holding him down became. Too much exertion and he couldn't even breathe.
He couldn't figure out what had gone wrong. Buffy hadn't warned them about this! There had to be a way out! They needed to be able to get to the First if the rest of her vision was to come to pass. But so far, he hadn't come close to finding one.
The First was watching the portal, which to Fenton's merely-human eyes appeared to be a boiling putrescent wound, the whirlpool-like vortex slowly diminishing as the agitation of the boiling exterior component increased to the point where there was no longer a funnel-shaped depression in the center. He didn't take that as a good sign, and tried to divert the First by asking useless questions. "How did you know we were coming? This trap wasn't set up to catch just anyone. It was designed specifically to take out Illyria. Your girls outside didn't have the slightest clue what was happening. But you knew exactly when and how we planned to attack! How did you know?!"
For a few seconds he thought she would ignore him, apparently enjoying the purple and brown colors now visible roiling in the portal while serenaded by Illyria's screams, but finally she deigned to respond. "One of your leaders by the name of 'Kinsey' apparently believed that I would be interested in making some kind of 'deal.' It takes a special kind of idiocy to be able to convince yourself that I would need to make any sort of 'deal' with the likes of you in order to succeed in My endeavors. However, this fool was apparently convinced that if he unilaterally provided certain useful Intelligence, I would let him have the Key once I was finished with it."
She shrugged. "I suppose that if he really wants the Key, Mr. Kinsey is more than welcome to come get her. Although that might be a rather difficult challenge, given that once I am finished using said Key it will leave him –as well as the rest of the universe-- a rather energetic mass of superheated plasma." Turning to face the struggling human, she smiled, although her eyes were most definitely not amused. "I'll keep up my end of the bargain. The Senator might have a few problems collecting his payment, however."
Frowning, Fenton thought back to all the promises that had been made to him if he reached a similar deal with the First. He'd told General Hammond all about it. He'd also made damned certain he never took off his anti-psychic device afterwards. He was fairly certain he hadn't made any such deal. The fact that someone else had done so meant that Kinsey had known he was going to refuse, but had been using him as a diversion since they already had someone else willing to do the job. Since they were 'obviously' counting on him, Hammond had never bothered to look at the rest of the team to see who might have been more receptive to the offer.
He thought about asking, but didn't bother. It wouldn't help him get out of this predicament, and discovering the identity of the person who had accepted Kinsey's offer didn't matter if they couldn't.
But once they did, he intended to hunt down the traitorous son of a bitch and skin him alive.
----
Kennedy really was an incredibly pretty girl. Tall and slim, with beautiful dark eyes and a smooth round face. She had prominent cheekbones offset by full lips normally emphasized by a wide smile. Her dark brown hair had been cut short, showcasing her increasing maturity where previously there had been only a generic youthful prettiness. She had the whole sultry Latina thing going for her, very nicely packaged.
She was not the sort of girl anyone would expect to spend most of her time studying martial arts. Of course, Buffy silently assumed that few people who looked at Kennedy would realize that she was a scum-sucking psychopathic bitch, either. She was the most vain, self-centered, egotistical –wait; weren't all of those the same thing?—evil conniving bitch Buffy had ever known. Cordelia had been more than a bit self-centered, but even at her worst she had never considered other people to be nothing more than random objects to be used and discarded as she saw fit. Hell, Buffy herself had been accused more than once of acting similarly, but it took someone like Kennedy to show her the real difference between doing what she had to do, and doing whatever she felt like doing.
Unfortunately being an evil whiny self-centered etcetera bitch didn't mean she wasn't a damned good fighter, and Buffy was too tired to appreciate facing someone good enough to go toe-to-toe with her. Unlike most slayers she had been deeply into martial arts long before she was Called, and still remembered how to fight without being endowed with superhuman powers. Which meant that also unlike most slayers, she could fight Buffy on even terms now that they were all back to being merely human, even when Buffy wasn't exhausted by her previous fights and the effects of ECF. Given that she was currently suffering from both those not-so-minor inconveniences, it was everything Buffy could do simply to keep herself from being pummeled.
Already she had been caught up by one episode during their battle, and Buffy had only survived by getting a good hit through Kennedy's defenses just before she was overcome by the paralysis that would otherwise have left her defenseless. By the time Kennedy recovered, Buffy had been able to mount a modest defense which had kept her alive long enough to recover to the point where she was actually able to fight back.
But the attacks were coming at more frequent intervals. Kennedy had managed to get a few good hits in already, and Buffy was bleeding from the mouth and nose. She'd forgotten how much it hurt to get hit when you weren't super-powered. Nothing fatal so far, but she really missed having a slayers ability to recover from such wounds in seconds. The girl was pushing her hard, and Buffy was getting tired. Unless she could figure out how to take her down in a hurry, it was only a matter of time until Kennedy would able to take advantage of her helplessness during an episode of ECF. There was no doubt in Buffy's mind that when such an opportunity presented itself, Kennedy would be more than happy to exploit it.
Self-centered people were not renowned for their adherence to Marquess of Queensbury rules.
Of course, after several months of working with Jack O'Neill, neither was Buffy.
---
Carter was having no more success in escaping her bonds than anyone else, and was well aware how little time they had remaining before the portal stabilized. If the First hadn't been lying, the equivalent of hundreds of ZPM's had been drained from Illyria, and even for a god that was a serious amount of energy. Like Fenton she suspected that the portal was getting close to stabilizing into its final configuration, and unless they could escape before it did there would be little they could do to prevent the First from carrying out its plans. Like Fenton she tried to divert its attention, because simply lying there futilely struggling wasn't going to do much to change that outcome. "So you knew our plans all along. You sacrificed all those innocent girls just to string us along. We arrived with the energy source you needed, and presumably the Key as well. Which means your plan will inevitably succeed.
"Unless the Elder Gods intervene again!"
The First stared at her for a few seconds, obviously wanting to savor Illyria's defeat, but even more obviously wanting to gloat over her victory with someone who could actually understand her, which was not the case of the still-screaming god-king. "What makes you think they intervened before?"
"Isn't that why the Key even exists? Didn't they create the Key to prevent you from doing something like this back when your original universe was dying?!" It was a shot in the dark, but Carter didn't know what else to try.
The First was suddenly glad it had let her speak, rather than simply kill the human insect out of hand. It unleashed a loud, cackling, obviously very amused laugh. "You fool! You understand nothing! They did no such thing!"
When she paused Carter thought she intended to defend herself. Then she saw her evil smirk, the triumphant gloating obvious. "They didn't create the Key to stop me from destroying this universe! I created the Key to stop them from destroying me!!!"
Turning slightly, she looked directly into Dawn's eyes. "That's right baby! Ah'm yo mama!!" Once again the First laughed aloud, a demented braying taking positive delight in the horrified expression on Dawn's face. "I was so very amused by the religious aspect of your legend, Dawnie! There you were, the cosmic equivalent of a broken condom, something neither intended nor wanted, yet the locals worshipped you as a god! It just seemed like such a perfect metaphor for their kind of sub-intelligent life!"
The First thought the expressions on their faces were priceless. Unlike her they had not taken measures to ensure they would not forget exactly who the Key truly was, so all turned towards Dawn, shock obvious, as it had likely been just as obvious the previous hundred times they had figured it out, only to forget it again a few minutes later. Unlike the rest of them however, Ash Fenton's expression of amazement quickly fell into one of despondent self-pity. Carter raised a questioning eyebrow and Fenton shook his head with bitter regret. "Dawn is the damned Key! I don't believe it! If she isn't God, she's the closest thing we've got to it. I just realized that when I do meet the real God, I'm going to have to admit that the first thing I thought when meeting His representative on Earth was 'Nice tits.'" He shook his head forlornly, muttering mostly to himself. "Goin' straight to Hell. Straight to Hell."
There were a few muffled snickers of laughter from his men, restrained like the others where they'd been trapped, but knowing what their leader was trying to do. As things stood they were screwed. He was trying to shake things up a bit, rattle a few cages and see what was knocked loose. Unfortunately for Ash Fenton, the First was not someone who appreciated being laughed at. It didn't matter if it was a 'joke,' or not directed at her in the first place: the First was not someone who tolerated an insult. Any insult. Meeting his eyes, the First nodded in agreement. "Yes, I suppose you are." Before he even realized exactly what had 'shaken loose,' Fenton's eyes went wide as the First lifted her leg and smashed her heel down on his throat, crushing the larynx instantly, blood filling his trachea, causing his eyes to bulge as he struggled against the pain, desperately struggling to draw a breath.
Everyone screamed in anger and horror as Ashton Fenton, Colonel, United States Air Force, possibly the only human being in history to have ever killed a tyrannosaurus rex, died without being able to move a single muscle.
The First was not apologetic. "Does anyone else find me amusing?"
-----
Buffy could feel it approaching. So far just a vague discomfort, but a sign of much worse things to come. The interval between episodes was down to only three minutes now, and while simultaneously trying to face off against a fighter of Kennedy's caliber it was becoming a real problem. Buffy still thought she was a technically better fighter, but Kennedy hadn't been shaken up by two previous fights and half a dozen attacks of ECF. The only reason she was still alive was because just before the last two attacks she'd launched an all-out assault on the other girl, knocking her down just before Buffy herself had been rendered defenseless when she had been overcome by the shakes. Kennedy had put two and two together, and unfortunately for Buffy her math skills were as competent as her martial arts skills. This time around she was fighting defensively. Not attacking, just waiting for the next time her opponent was overcome by the effects of ECF.
It wasn't a pretty way to win, but Kennedy had less than no interest in fighting 'fair.' She was there to win, period. She'd lie about how she did it afterwards.
Still, she was a bit surprised that Buffy wasn't doing everything she could to take her out while she still could; throwing everything she had left into a frantic final attempt to take down her opponent before she was completely helpless. Holding back, conserving her energy, seemed to be pretty dumb tactics, and until then Buffy hadn't done anything so overtly stupid. What she didn't realize was that Buffy saw no need to do something so futile this time. There had been no calls to her cell phone, no messages blared over loudspeakers. The First had not succumbed to what politicians considered 'reason.' Meaning that everything now depended on Plan C, and Buffy no longer had to even pretend that she wanted it any other way.
Unfortunately for Kennedy, she had figured things out just one cycle too late. Because unless Buffy had completely screwed things up, this episode of ECF would be unlike any of the others. In fact, if she hadn't miscalculated, this episode would be like nothing even the gods themselves had ever seen.
Not even they were ready for Plan C.
----
Dawn screamed as the First released her from whatever force fields had been holding her against the metal grating, still horrified by the sudden, completely unexpected murder just inches away from her. Fenton's neck was a huge black mass, his eyes open but unseeing. It was a horrible sight, and she was completely off-balance by the turn of events so in no position to take advantage of her momentary freedom. She was considerably bigger than the First, but not nearly as strong, and before she knew what was happening the First had twisted her arm behind her back, using leverage to exert considerable pain to ensure that Dawn could not escape.
Only then did Dawn notice that the portal had finally stabilized, still swirling and churning nauseously and looking like a septic wound on the face of reality. But the surface almost flat, the whirlpool effect having finally all but disappeared.
When the First forced her to march towards that hideous apparition, Dawn couldn't help but scream in terror, the high-pitched noise cutting through the angry shouts as Fenton's men impotently cursed his murderer.
----
Casually, as if they were having a friendly conversation, Buffy suddenly spoke up, looking for an opening, but not appearing to be terribly interested in resuming the fight. "The last time I came through to this world, I was told about something really interesting. Do you want to know what it was?"
Frustrated and angry that she hadn't been able to put her smaller, more damaged opponent away, Kennedy wasn't much interested in talking, but was feeling pretty confident that this time she'd be in position to take advantage of whatever it was that was affecting the slayer she had grown to despise more than anyone else on earth. Everything Buffy had should have been Kennedy's. It should have been Kennedy who led the slayers, Kennedy who was spoken of in awed whispers, Kennedy who was listened to and respected and liked. Buffy was a whiny fool who had managed to get lucky a few times. Had Kennedy been in charge back in Sunnydale, the First would never have stood a chance. "Knowing you, it was that your hair was out of fashion. Close enough?"
Buffy smiled, knowing how pissed off her opponent was, and playing with her just a little. Because she suddenly realized that she didn't have to worry about anything anymore. It was all over but the shouting. Or, in her case, polite conversation. Plan C either worked or it didn't. There was nothing else to be done. Kennedy had totally bought into the First's promise that she would be saved, and rewarded with a powerful position within the New Order once the First succeeded in carrying out its plans. She had never once considered the billions who would die even if the First hadn't been lying about everything that would come to pass once it succeeded in pushing the Key into that hellish portal. With all the pressure finally off her, Buffy welcomed the opportunity to shove her stupidity down Kennedy's patrician throat. "Almost. But actually, what really got my attention was the fact that Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan couldn't go home to Pylea."
The look of confusion on Kennedy's face was priceless.
----
Spike hadn't said much up until that point, but when he saw the First manhandling Dawn, his protective instincts kicked in and he started yelling. Being Spike, his invective-filled tirade comprised the most shocking accusations and slanderously demeaning insults he could come up with. The First did not like to be insulted. It had just made that point unequivocally clear. It was only the fact that it was Spike doing the ranting that gave her pause. Spike was the 'vampire with a soul,' and although the First didn't buy into the whole 'Shanshu Prophesy' BS she didn't intend to take any chances this close to complete success. 'Prophesies' were tricky things. Just in case even the attempt to kill him triggered some sort of prophetic backlash, the First simply reached for the remote control unit hanging from her belt and used it to extend the energy barriers so they covered his entire body. He was a vampire, so didn't need to breathe, and confined by such wards he wasn't going anywhere.
----
"What the hell does Lorne have to do with anything?" Ordinarily Kennedy was not one for small talk during her fights to the death, but since she was simply holding back, waiting for Buffy to be overcome by ECF, she saw no problem letting the idiot waste her final few moments of life babbling on about trivialities.
For someone who was only a few seconds away from being incapable of defending herself, Buffy didn't seem to be in much of a hurry. "He couldn't go home because the portals were closed. Only the strongest mages could force them to open. So I got to thinking about this big portal the First wanted to use. It would be blocked too, and the First doesn't have the power to open it. None of the mages do either. In fact, only one thing I know would have the mojo to open that portal. And she just happens to hate the First with the sort of depthless passion usually reserved for mascara that runs at the first sign of tears.
"So I'm thinking, that means the First would probably need us to convince Illyria to do it for her."
----
It didn't hurt to be cautious, so the First adjusted its grip on Dawn's arm and used the other to manipulate the control unit as it continued to walk backwards towards the portal, keeping its eyes out for any sign of interference, paying particular attention to the futilely screaming vampire and any indications of a rescue force trying to blow open the main door. There was a sudden high-pitched whine from the direction of each of the trapped prisoners as the remote unit created an overload in their anti-psionic devices, and then even louder screams of agony as the First ripped through their minds searching for any unanticipated ploy or secret stratagem Buffy or her team might have been planning. Normally the First was a bit more delicate in such efforts, but there wasn't much time left and, besides, they'd pissed her off.
The First wasn't really surprised to discover that nobody knew anything about any such secret ploy. Since she doubted that Buffy would have told them anything even if she had been planning such a surprise move, it wasn't unexpected that none of them were anticipating a last-minute reprieve. But even negative evidence was worth knowing right about then, even though half of them were driven insane by the brutal mind-rape. It was more than slightly irritating for the First to acknowledge that the people Buffy might have told had she actually been planning something –Dawn and Spike—were both immune to her telepathic abilities. Meaning that either no last-second plan was in the works, or she wouldn't learn about it by exploiting that telepathic talent. Its best option was to keep a close eye on Spike and his now-silent rant, and a firm grip on the Key, in order to ensure that neither could do anything in the final few seconds it would take to toss the Key into the damned portal.
So the First kept a careful eye on its two most potentially-troublesome captives as it pulled a struggling Dawn back towards the portal, prepared for anything, trying not to get too excited even though it was about to fulfill its fondest dreams after so many frustrating millennia.
----
Kennedy wasn't buying it. "Bull! If you knew Illyria was needed for the plan to work, you'd never have let her come anywhere near this place!"
Feeling the onset of the ECF attack, Buffy was still able to bring up a condescending smile. "That would depend on whether my plans needed her to open the portal as well, now wouldn't it?"
Telling herself she wasn't nervous, only filled with contempt and passing the time until whatever was happening to Buffy happened again, Kennedy still couldn't prevent a trace of nervousness from appearing in her voice as she responded. "Then it would be a pretty fucking stupid plan! You've got what? This weird shaking thing, and a retarded prophesy! If you're expecting that 'Shanshu' crap to come to anything, you're out of luck! The First has it covered. She's known all about it right from the start! The 'Champion' has to die first in order to be reborn! She ain't gonna touch a hair on his peroxide-stained head. No threat, so no dusting, so no prophesy coming into play. See how easy it works?"
Her smile looking a bit distorted as it morphed into a rictus grimace, Buffy was still, if only barely, able to speak. "Shanshu… doesn't apply to… Spike. He has a soul, but he isn't… their Champion."
Kennedy could see that her oppon
ent was about to be overcome by whatever it was affecting her, this would soon all be over, so could afford to indulge her delusion a few seconds longer. And it was a delusion! It had to be! "Of course he's the Champion, you moron! The Prophesy is clear. A vampire with a soul will fight the Forces of Evil in the Final Battle, and be granted his life as a reward. Not too many vampires with a soul around nowadays, Buffy. Spike is the Champion for the Powers That Be. This is Armageddon. Ipso facto and kumbaya, ad hominum non sequitor, Spike is their Champion. Only, if the First doesn't threaten him, he doesn't get to be the 'hero,' so no shanshu. It's called 'logic,' you pinhead!"
Feeling herself beginning to shake, Buffy could barely get the words out, but her eyes blazed with fervent intensity. "Spike isn't… the Powers' Champion…. He's my… Champion! Powers… already have… their own…!!!"
It took a few seconds for Kennedy to figure it out, before the clue-bat finally gonged like the Liberty Bell on Independence Day.
"Angel…!!!!"
----
The ECF had been nothing but an inconvenience. Annoying, but something her plans could accommodate. In several ways the First had even been able to take advantage of the affliction, using it as an excuse to get away her now-redundant followers. But it really was undignified to be so overwhelmingly affected by the physical manifestation of a natural phenomena a deity like the First would have been immune to in its true form. Fortunately it didn't last long, and her grip on Dawn would only tighten while she was overcome by the paralysis. Even if there was some validity to the prophesy, it was unlikely to manifest itself in the three seconds or so that the First would be unable to respond.
It would have been far more convenient had this latest episode arrived even a few seconds later, after the First had been able to toss the Key into the portal, but it was only a matter of a few seconds either way. Knowing that the only thing capable of stopping her plans at that point was the sudden manifestation of a mystical prophesy, the First kept her eyes on a firmly-trapped Spike, waiting for the effect to pass, and the final culmination of her eons-old dream.
The psychic scream from Kennedy wasn't expected.
The warning was even less expected.
But it might have arrived in time! Desperately trying to turn her head, trying to see what was happening in the only direction she had considered to be completely safe, the First frantically tried to hold on. All it needed was three seconds.
Three goddamn seconds!
But it would not receive them. From within the portal, two human arms reached out, grabbed the paralyzed First by the neck, and pulled her backwards.
Into the portal.
Along with the still-screaming Key, still firmly trapped within her grasp.