Chapter 5: First Choices

Sunnydale High was a ruin. Two years past, the explosion which had prevented the ascension of Mayor Wilkins had left every window shattered, every wall stained with blackened residue, the indelible shadow of flames. The second floor had half-collapsed into the first, and the roof was little more than a crumpled mess jutting in every which direction. A loose skeleton of scaffolding hung around the structure, suggesting that an attempt to either demolish or renovate the existing structure had begun, only to be evacuated after the Hellions' invasion had flooded the streets with terror and pain.

Razor barely even bothered to decelerate before his bike was tearing up the squares of grass which marked the old school grounds, sending clumps of earth flying across the pale stone walkway which lead to the ruined entrance ahead. Five bikes pulled up behind him, the previously deafening sound of their engines spluttering nervously into silence.

The infection of whispers which appeared to have begun to spread through the gang since the wounded rookie had stumbled into the Bronze had set Razor's teeth on edge. The deeper meaning of this 'Slayer's message had not been lost on him. It was said the Hellmouth itself was directly beneath the school – and now she had challenged him, standing atop the infernal door she had claimed as her own to protect.

"They say the slayer actually stopped an ascension here," a voice whispered behind him, causing Razor's lips to pull back over his teeth in annoyance.

"You're shitting me." Another replied, his voice tense. "No crackpot's been mad enough to try and ascend since…"

"No, no - it's true. Blew up the whole place, killing a hundred blood rats in the process."

Razor silenced their speculations with an icy glare emphasised with a grimace. He wouldn't let this so-called 'Slayer' or anyone else weaken the fist of his authority over his boys. The chain grasped firmly in his hand, he mounted the small set of pale stone steps and strode boldly towards the main entrance.

It was time to end this.


"Okay… that should do it!" Willow exclaimed, closing the lid of her Macbook with a sense of finality. She reached over to remove a cable and seal Buffy's access port, before quickly ferreting her computer away.

Buffy felt the odd sensation of her code being overwritten, changing her in ways too subtle for her to detect all at once.

"Alright then Buffy, everything still functioning okay?"

Buffy nodded. "I think so."

"Good. I need you to listen to me quick. If you get into a fight with the head demon – you don't need to run to me if you get hurt, alright? I've made some slight adjustments to your central processor – so I think you'll be able to respond to whatever happens out there."

Buffy's expression became more serious as she processed the information. "I understand," She told her friend, trying her best to give an impression of sincerity.

"I'm not going to lie to you…" Tara said softly as she knelt down beside her. "If we're gonna win this, we need you to keep fighting. We need you to really try to win."

"We're counting on ya Buff," Xander added.

Buffy was glad. She had worried that allowing herself to be torn apart by the Hellions Demons, by leading them to Willow in the cemetery had made her a failure in her friends' eyes – it explained why they had left her there after all. Now she had a chance to make it right, to make them happy with her again. To make Spike like her again.

She looked at him for a moment, leaning impatiently against the doorframe leading into the corridor, drumming his fingers endlessly against the charred surface. She smiled broadly at him, but Spike made no sign that he was aware of it.

It was then she first heard the distant rush of engines coming closer.

"I think they're here." Buffy informed the others.

"We'll be right here Buffy – don't worry," Willow assured her sincerely. "I'll be keeping an eye on things too."

Buffy glanced at each of them in turn before she turned to walk out of the former classroom.

"Well, if the bot messes it up – at least it'll give me something to do…" Spike grumbled quietly. "As it is, may as well have stayed home and watched TV with little sis, for all the use I am here…"


She stood in a wide stance at the centre of the corridor, waiting for her adversaries to approach. After a few moments, Buffy made out several figures storming into the building, half-illuminated by moonlight that seeped into the building through cracks and shattered windows.

"I've been waiting for you," she informed them pointedly, just as the face of Razor became visible from the surrounding gloom. From his hand there dangled an approximately metre-long chain, with a manacle at either end.

"So…" Razor growled acidly. "Are you the real Slayer this time – or are you just another life-sized doll?"

A toy. That's what he had called her.

"I am the Slayer," Buffy said stalwartly. "You got my message?"

"Oh, I got it alright…" The towering demon drawled. "Strange way of protecting your town 'Slayer', letting my boys take it from you without lifting a finger… and sending robots to do your dirty work."

Instead of answering him, Buffy looked to the few Hellions demons gathered behind their leader. She brought to mind Willow's instructions on how to talk to him. "Are your friends here to fight for you?"

Razor's red eyes scorched into her own, a sickening grimace spreading across his face.

"Oh… I don't need their help to break another little girl. They're just here to bear witness to the second death of the Slayer in Sunnydale… and the last."

"I understand. Shall we begin?"

As if in reply, Razor threw the chain onto the floor roughly. "You had the nerve to challenge my authority, girl. So now we're going to do this the Hellions way."

Buffy was uncertain. Willow hadn't prepared her for this eventuality. What was the correct option? It wasn't in her programming. She creased her brow in thought. Willow had said… Willow had said she could choose. She could make the decision without having to refer to her friends' guidance or fall back on her primary programs.

Buffy chose.

"I accept. What must I do?"

Razor signalled to one of his boys with a sharp incline of his head, who swiftly proceeded to pick up the chain and bind one manacle about his leader's left wrist. He turned a small key, which appeared to seal it closed. Then another Hellions came and lifted the other end, holding the manacle out to Buffy contemptuously, a foul odour on his breath. Buffy gave him her own wrist, but kept her eyes on Razor.

And with that, the two underlings withdrew several feet, and the two combatants began to circle, Buffy following Razor's lead. Neither one of them had given anything away, neither's gaze deviating from the other's eyes, waiting for the other to reveal something, anything.

Razor struck. A lightning-fast blow sped towards Buffy's face, only for Buffy to duck at the last moment and launch a punch of her own towards Razor's solar plexus. To her surprise however, Razor did not so much as flinch at the force of the strike, merely reaching out to grab her wrist, tear it aside with his left hand before launching an uppercut at her head with his right. Just as Buffy began to stumble backwards, Razor yanked firmly on the chain, forcing Buffy forwards before methodically kicking her legs out from under her. Buffy just managed to roll away before Razor extended his maliciously sharp claws and rammed them into the floor where Buffy's chest had been only half a moment before.

Buffy was swiftly becoming aware of a troubling truth; Razor was clearly adept at this kind of fighting – and she was not. In the past her fighting style had simply depended on several styles and forms saved in her memory; techniques that could be executed appropriately in response to an enemy's movement. Yet the addition of this chain, the forced close quarters where every manoeuvre had an additional element, added a new aspect to a fight for which she was not prepared.

Still, she couldn't run. Not only had the chain which bound Buffy made that possibility moot, but Tara had said she had to keep fighting. Her friends were counting on her. Dawn was counting on her.

Buffy pulled up her legs to her stomach, then using the momentum sprung forwards onto her feet. The move elicited a bark of frustration from Razor, who reached for her again with several vicious swipes of his right arm. Buffy quickly swerved out of the way of each stroke, though she felt the tip of his claws slice through the skin of her right cheek with the final blow.

"You know what Slayer," Razor taunted her. "This time I think I'll just hang your head from my handlebars… a much more permanent souvenir, don't you think?"

He struck for her again, and as Buffy raised her forearm to catch the blow, Razor leaned in conspiratorially.

"Do me a favour; smile for me when I cut it off!"


"What's going on out there Wil?" Spike asked impatiently, abandoning his leaning position in favour of pacing back and forth restlessly.

Willow sat against the far wall; her black eyes blind to the room in front of her.

"It could be better." She replied tightly, her eyes darting over the room; watching a fight only she could observe.

"Bugger this then," Spike decided, making for the scorched doorway.

"Stop!" Willow commanded, her tone giving even Spike pause.

"It'll work out better for everyone if they think the Slayer defeated their leader, don't you think?" Tara suggested gently.

"Don't see why it matters – as long as the big lout snuffs it they'll be tearing each other to shreds for a week."

"But," Willow interjected sharply, clearly straining between the focus of maintaining her spell and the conversation. "If the Buffybot slays him, however these guys found out about Buffy, it won't matter. They'll spread the word; the Slayer is back."

"So what?" Spike derided, "We wait here until they rip the bot to bloody pieces twice in as many nights?"

Willow's jaw tightened. "If we have to."


"You've already failed Slayer…" Razor mocked her. "How many of your friendly neighbours do you think I've already slaughtered while you.. what? Hid here in the dark?"

He caught the sideways kick Buffy launched at his stomach with a grin. "You must be quite the disappointment."

Buffy's thoughts couldn't help but spring to her friends. To Willow, to Spike, to Dawn. Was he right? What if she was nothing more than a failure to them – that despite everything she wanted, she could never truly make them happy? Never understand the meaning of some of their words. Never say or do the right things. Never live up to the other Buffy. Never be exactly.

Just as she thought the panic might overwhelm her circuits, a reassuring voice surfaced from deep within Buffy's memory.

Remember your breathing. Think of the breath as… Chi. Air as a life source.

Buffy did not require oxygen to live. But in her moment of building towards an overload, she grasped onto the words, nonetheless. She concentrated on the simple mechanics of the unnecessary breaths. In and out. Nothing else mattered, especially not the words of her opponent.

The technique seemed to give her focus. To win, Buffy had to adapt to the new fighting style. She quickly analysed the last dozen of Razor's attacks, and made her move. Just as Razor moved forward to launch another slash of his claws, Buffy threw herself to the floor, sliding feet-first between Razor's wide stance, yanking on the chain with full force before flipping to her feet once more. Razor only managed a small sound of surprise before his arm was forced after her, driving his face into the floor with a crack, before the rest of the great demon followed suit, leaving him lying face down in the corridor. The cheers of the spectating Hellions had now become a deathly silence.

Buffy watched as Razor lifted his bloodied visage from the floor, spitting out a number of teeth the impact had shattered.

"You're going to wish you hadn't done that," Razor promised, pushing through his obvious pain to force himself to his feet once more.

"I am sorry," Buffy assured him. "But I really do need you to leave."

Her apology merely seemed to enrage Razor further, who erupted into a frenzy of strikes. Buffy dodged and weaved through the most threatening blows, whilst letting her jacket take the brunt of the others. Seeing an opportunity, Buffy caught Razor's right wrist in her hand, before doing the same to his left as he swiped for her again. His eyes narrowing with fury now mere inches from her own, Razor suddenly craned his neck back, before slamming his forehead into Buffy's own.

Buffy heard a muted clang as their heads collided. Razor's eyes seemed to widen with realisation for a moment as he stumbled backwards, only to limply roll back into his skull as his large form collided with the ground.

The other Hellions' jaws almost hit the floor as Buffy turned to face them, smiling through her dazed and hazy vision.

"Now, I do not want to have to say this again." She informed them sternly. "Please get back on your loud motorcycles and go back wherever you came from."

The demons bolted. In their fear, everything in their hands plummeted to the ground as the Hellions scrambled desperately towards the entrance. For a moment, there was only the fading sounds of distant engines, and the gentle breath of the wind.

"Is it over? Like, did we actually win?" Anya's voice echoed from down the corridor, as she peeked her head reluctantly out of the door.

Buffy instinctually began walking towards her friends as they emerged from the classroom, only to be severely slowed once her chain pulled taut with the dead weight of Razor's unconscious form. She doubled back, approaching the spot where the fleeing Hellions had presumably dropped the manacle keys amongst their weaponry.

Just as she dragged Razor far enough to almost reach the keys, Buffy felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Tara step ahead of her, bending down to pick up the fallen key.

"Here, let me." Tara offered, holding out her hand in invitation. Buffy accepted, reaching out her own and allowing her friend to unbind her. Instinctively, Buffy searched Tara's face for approval, and as the manacle fell away, the witch met her gaze, answering her silent question with a small, grateful smile.

"Looks like captain skin-disease is still breathing…" Spike remarked. "Want me to finish the job?"

"Hang on a sec," Xander interjected, putting his arm in front of Spike. "Don't you think we should let the T-800 over there finish the job?"

Spike gave Xander a withering look as he crossed over to Buffy, placing Giles' axe in her hands.

Buffy looked over to Willow, who nodded once solemnly.

Buffy approached Razor, still lying comatose on his back. She raised the axe, and swung downwards, a single strike severing head from body. In contrast to slaying a vampire however, the blow caused an excessive spray of blood to erupt from the force of the wound, spurting in all directions. The group looked on, perturbed, as Buffy reclaimed the axe from the dent in the floor.

"That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!" Buffy exclaimed triumphantly, blood streaked across her smiling face, and for a moment the hall was silent.

"Well…" Xander began, once again determined to fill the quiet. "Those words will now burn a horrifying image into my brain until… forever."

"I thought you got her to stop saying that already?" Anya demanded of Willow, who merely raised her arms and rolled her eyes in resignation.

Tara just cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "Maybe she just likes saying it?"

Buffy's smile just widened into a grin.