It All Ends Sometimes...Part 6
Disclaimer: Buffy and all associated characters are the property blah blah blah of Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon and a bunch of people I've never heard of...in a nutshell, they aren't mine; I'm just playing with them. And, might I add, I'm not making a red cent off of this...I'm writing this for fun and for others to read for free entertainment. And if I make a mistake with anything Wicca, no offense is intended.
Author note: Yeah, yeah…it's been ages. Without boring you with the details, my life is busy. Get over it. On the other hand, if you're still following along after all this, I'm glad! Please review and recommend this, and the inspiration to write might occur more often.
On to the fic…
Far away and high above, unseen and hidden from most mortal eyes amongst full and feathered clouds, an ancient palace hovered. It existed now and had existed for thousands of years; in fact, it was soon to mark its 300th millennium of existence. During its fabled time it saw some terrific and historic events. Remarkably, it survived them all. Once, nearly fifty thousand years ago, it was almost utterly destroyed by a battle between two fused young warriors and their nearly invincible foe. At that time it was under the care of the current master's progenitor. In fact, the current Lord was only the third in history to reside in this palace and watch over the Earth. It, for it was without gender, was the Earth's Guardian, and her Guardian was very intently watching the ridiculous battle between a vampire and one of the world's last hopes.
Paosh's eyes narrowed. It possessed an intense interest in the young woman it observed far below; after all, she was the culmination of over ten thousand years worth of genetic, mystical, and arcane manipulation.
Yes, it thought, its antennae twitching in excitement. She may be The One…
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Sure about that?
Those three words normally don't carry much threat…certainly, not enough to cause a shiver of fear to course down the spine of a Master vampire or give that same Master pause.
Normally.
Right about now, normal was an alien concept…as alien as the blonde young woman sitting cross-legged on the floor. Spike closed his mouth, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. Bollocks…how did she…?! The vampire crossed his arms and stared, unable to understand what just happened. First, Buffy worked out and found some…thing inside of her that put her in a preternaturally calm state. Then, in a move that thoroughly surprised the vampire, she actually asked him to first blindfold and then attack her. At first he didn't want to, but something about her poise convinced him, and so he did. Much to his amazement, the kick he thought to end it all with not only didn't connect, it seemed he fired it in entirely the wrong direction, unless his eyes deceived him. After all, the air around Buffy's body seemed to be slightly shimmering. Yes, that was it. It was a trick; an illusion.
Spike kept his arms crossed. "So. You know how to do some kind of illusion now, right? I see now…make Ol' Spike look like a bloody wanker by tricking him, eh?"
Buffy merely sat, eyeing him curiously, as though for the first time with brand new eyes, knowing what it is she saw, yet not recognizing it. She frowned. "No."
He hesitated. "'No'? That's it? Just 'no'? C'mon pet, I know something's going on here. What did you just do?"
Buffy smiled. "Now Spike, you still haven't attacked me," she chided. "That slow-assed kick wasn't an attack. No answers for Spikey until he gives Buffy a good, sound workout." She stood and beckoned to him. "C'mon Big Bad…let's see what you got. Don't hold back on me now; in fact, why don't you let your demon out to play?" She replaced her smirk with an innocent smile and just stood there, her hands at her side, loose, ready.
Spike snarled and lunged, his human face morphing into that of his demon alter ego, his speed and power increasing with the change. To the human eye, the vampire would appear as a blur, his movements blindingly fast, impacting and rendering devastating damage faster than the eye could blink; quicker than the mind could register he had moved. With every erg of energy, and every bit of speed, William the Bloody threw a punch at the Slayer.
Buffy yawned. Idly, almost lazily, she tilted her head to the side, allowing the punch to slip past. In much the same instant, she stepped to the outside of the punch, spun, and landed a snapping, open back-hand to the back of Spike's skull. Coupled with his forward momentum, the smack threw him face first into the wall. Snarling in a red rage, Spike pushed off of the wall and spun about, launching into another attack…to find Buffy staring at her hand, incredulity spread across her features. It was then Spike realized he was bleeding from his nose and mouth…it was then he felt the pain of the broken bones in his face. It was then he knew. I. Am. SO. Dead.
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Buffy stared at her hand, awe and uncertainty staining her features. I barely touched him...how…? Slowly, she lifted her eyes up to meet those of Spike, stunned to see him barely standing upright, blood running from his nose, mouth and…ears? Dumbfounded, she stared back at her hand. How…?
Spike looked as though he had been blindsided by a train. He reached behind his head and winced, his hand coming back stained red. He opened his mouth to say something, but his body betrayed him, his eyes rolling up into his head, his knees giving way, falling bonelessly to the tatami in the basement dojo.
Buffy made to walk to him, and stopped with a start as a voice behind her spoke.
"Not bad for a beginner."
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I'm almost home—I'm almost home—I'm almost…
"Going somewhere, Amy?"
The brown-haired girl stopped dead in her tracks, her breath frozen in her lungs, heart hammering in her throat. Cold, icy fingers trailed up her spine to the back of her neck—and with a sudden increase in terror she realized those fingers were real.
"Now Amy—it's not nice to leave people waiting when they ask a question, y'know?"
Amy Madison turned to face the source of the mocking voice, her mind emptying of the spells she considered using, the words dying unchanted on her lips.
"Willow, hi! I've not seen you in so long…how've you been?" Nervously, she attempted a smile, the cheer in her words not quite reaching her voice as the cold fingers on her neck massaged her fear in deeper and deeper.
The red-head smiled faintly, her grip tightening on her quarry's neck. "Oh, I've been dead. You?"
Amy barely had time to draw in a breath to answer before Willow's whispered "Requiescat en Somnus" caused her to lose consciousness.
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Buffy spun towards the unexpected voice. There before her stood a green demon—a BIG, green demon, to be exact. It stood somewhere around seven feet tall, broad shouldered and built; it wore some kind of white outfit, belted at the waist with a purple sash, and covered overall by a brown, thigh length vest. He carried a gnarled, brown staff that had an odd, "T"-shaped head. He leaned on the staff…seemingly more out of casual indifference than infirmity. Atop its head were two antennas, each above a heavily ridged brow that framed piercing, purple hued eyes. Bald, each side of its head bore elongated, pointy ears.
"Not bad indeed." It repeated, eyes narrowing with undisguised interest. "However, nowhere near good enough."
Buffy eyed the strange, new arrival, slowly backing towards Spike's inert form before stealing a glance down to check the vampire. He's not breathing, she thought. Grimacing, she realized the idiocy of that thought and she mentally berated herself, Of course he's not breathing…DUH, vampire…?
"Oh, don't worry about your friend there. He'll live." The being arched an eyebrow and chuckled in amusement. "Well, sort of. After all, he is dead already."
Buffy crossed her arms and stared at the newcomer. "Ok…and why exactly should I believe you, Mr. Spock?"
Briefly, a blank look crossed the being's face, quickly clearing away into recognition of the name before dissolving into mirth. "Oh, yes, I remember now…Spock…heh heh…yes, very funny indeed." He gathered himself together and pulled himself to his full height. "All humor aside, Ms. Summers, you and I need to speak." He inhaled and exhaled deeply before gravely pronouncing, "You see, you're the Chosen One." It smiled, waiting to see the effect this momentous news would have on Buffy.
The Slayer shifted position, moving her weight to her other foot and arching a single, sculpted eyebrow, head tilting to the side before sarcastically riposting, "Hello? This is news?"
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*I've got a loverly bunch of coconuts--*
Bugger off…
*There they are a-standing in a row--*
Ow.
*Big ones, small ones, some as big as your 'ead!*
Speaking of 'eads….did I say 'Ow' already…?
*'Give 'em a twist, a flick of the wrist', is what the showman said!*
Danny Boy, you blighter, PLEASE twist off my 'ead…Ow? Ow.
Spike considered opening his eyes, but his body rebelled—in fact, the very act of attempting to think caused such brilliant pain he hastily apologized for his sin of musing and blissfully, and thankfully, fell back into the black swirling depths of oblivion.
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Amy Madison prayed to her Goddess for blissful, black oblivion.
Some hours ago she awakened to find her tongue numbed and immobile. At first, she thought it was to keep her quiet, but she quickly learned that her captors didn't care a whit for her silence; they just wanted her unable to verbalize an incantation. Screams were perfectly acceptable, as they so expertly demonstrated—it was speech they had an issue with. Indeed, they seemed pleased with the louder screams she produced. They also seemed pleased with unique ones, screams that didn't just belt out but either warbled, wailed, or contained some other form of punctuation.
And then there was the humiliation.
It wasn't bad enough that Willow had stripped her down to her skin for the torture. Oh, no. She and the other four vampires took every opportunity to sexually molest her amidst the pain they inflicted, cutting and biting her breasts and genitalia, drawing blood, and then licking and sucking it off, delighting in the chagrin and humiliation it caused her. As it now stood, thanks to their teeth and razor sharp claws, her entire body was a mass of incised and seeping symbols, each inch screaming in agony from the thousands of insults the whole had endured. Amy tried to keep her eyes closed, as that helped her to attempt to lose herself in her "Secret Place", the place where she was always safe and happy. It didn't last long though.
At one point, Willow pouted and seemed put out that Amy kept her eyes closed and refused to watch. She must have suspected Amy was hiding from the pain in that fashion. Her solution to that had been to slice off Amy's eyelids and pull her eyes from their sockets, magically mounting them before her body so she had no choice but to watch every second of the events.
Willow snickered. The screams were much richer now—in fact, she didn't know which sound she liked more—the crunching sound of Aki and Rebeka biting off Amy's toes and fingers one by one or the screams.
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The creature blinked, staring at Buffy in confusion.
"Ah, yes, of course you are." It smiled. "However, I meant more so than your own knowledge and past would indicate."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, ok, let me guess—because of this tremendous destiny I have of being yet somebody else's 'Chosen One', I must now follow you, do exactly as you say, or vile horrible things will befall me and the rest of the human race. However, if I do as you say then everyone will be spared, great evil will be defeated, and etc, etc. How am I doing so far?"
The green being stared, agape. "Yes! Exactly! How did you know?"
A harsh sigh exploded from Buffy's lips as her head dropped and her chin bounced on her chest, eyes closed in disbelief. "Oh good grief, here we go again…"
"Look, I'm kinda busy at the moment and I really need to check on Spike and get him some blood, so if you don't mind making this some other time--?"
Buffy turned and stooped over Spike's inert form. "Spike, hey, can you hear me? C'mon Spike, I didn't hit you THAT hard, did I?"
Buffy sensed motion behind her and turned her head to see the demon moving closer, its staff held loosely in its hand. "That's close enough, Mister."
"Paosh."
"What?"
"I said, 'Paosh'. That's my name"
Her eyes narrowed. "I wasn't asking."
It shrugged. "Manners aren't out of vogue." A single eyebrow arched. "I can help him, if you let me."
"How?"
"I can heal his injury." It snapped its fingers. "Like that."
Buffy eyed him warily and stood. "Just like that," she said, snapping her fingers as well, a sharp, sonic imitation of his action.
"Just like that." It softly said. It gestured towards the fallen vampire, its manner and face in a classic "may I?" posture. Buffy studied it briefly, considering; she really had no reason to trust this creature, yet if it actually could help…
Buffy nodded sharply then stood and stepped back. Cautiously, she stood nearby, hands at her side, loose and ready; she had no warning from her Slayer senses, yet she didn't continue living as long as she had by being careless. Trust came much harder to her now. She reflected ruefully that a time existed in her not too distant past where that wasn't the case. Grimacing, her lips drew tighter together into a hard line—Everything changes…
Focusing on the scene below her, her eyes centered with interest on the muttering green humanoid kneeling by her…what? What was Spike to her? He wasn't an enemy, not any longer, and he certainly wasn't a very familial sort. So—what?
"Bloody Hell!"
Buffy started, her attention sharply snapping back to the actions of the creature at Spike's side. A very satisfied smile creased its features as it pulled back from the vampire who, a startled look of amazement on his own visage, was busily examining the back of his head with his hands.
"You ok?"
Spike looked to Buffy, mouth working soundlessly. "Uh, yeah, I think so. Although I wasn't." He turned his ice-blue eyes to the creature. "Thanks."
Paosh stood and nodded in the affirmative to Spike. Buffy noted with interest that it leaned heavily on its staff, as though the act of the healing had taken great energy from it. "You're welcome, William."
At the mention of his human name, Spike's eyes iced over, his face darkening dangerously at the familiarity. Paosh continued.
"I know your name, William Longstreet…your name and everything about you; you and Ms. Summers here as well." It turned to Buffy and politely asked, "May I explain, Ms. Summers?"
"Slayer, you know this git?"
Buffy shook her head, still regarding the creature with a mixture of curiosity and interest mingled with a dash of healthy suspicion thrown in. "I've never seen him before five minutes ago." Her eyes narrowed. "Although, he certainly seems to know us, doesn't he?"
Paosh smiled gently. "Only by reputation and observation, I assure you."
At this both Buffy and Spike narrowed their eyes. "Observation?" Buffy leaned in menacingly
Paosh hastily amended the statement—his senses keenly noted the abrupt shift in power as the Slayer's chi briefly flared. "Very indirect observation, really! I've not watched you except from my observatory and palace in the course of my duties. Honestly, from there I can observe everyone on the planet. After all, I am Earth's Guardian." It smiled. "It's my duty."
Spike and Buffy responded with the first clear, intelligible thing they could think of.
"HuhWha-?"
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"Bored now."
Willow idly traced the tip of her finger across her canvas, her paint smearing wet and thick as it cooled, the delicious coppery scent of earlier dying away to a lifeless odor. Whoever said artists put their life's blood into their work was wrong, Willow mused. It's much better when you use someone else's.
Giggling, she turned to the lush sofa in the corner of the opulent room. Fitted wall to wall with leather furniture, the room boasted thick, luxuriant shag carpeting that worshipped the feet and caressed the sole, but ended short of the fireplace. In the room's center, an open fireplace gave heat and light to the medieval feel of the space, casting haunted shadows about the heavy oak furnishings, fiery reflections softly glinting from the leather coverings—and eerie, glowing gold reflections from the eyes of the two vampires on the sofa.
It somewhat annoyed Willow that Tali and Nina had taken such a liking to each other. In fact, they preferred each other's company over time with her. As their Sire, this rankled Willow to no end, but she knew their devotion to her was complete—they would follow any command without hesitation. Under most circumstances.
"Tali."
The dark haired vampire in question growled low in her throat, barely pausing in her wet, tongue-dueling kiss with Nina. Partially atop her, Tali had one hand firmly caressing the smaller vampire's inner thigh and the other tangled in her long, thick hair, fingers twirling the soft tresses into whirlpools of silk. In short, she didn't give a damn what Willow wanted right about then.
"Tali and Nina!"
Breathing hard, both vampires reluctantly pulled away from the scalding kiss they were in to turn their golden eyes to Willow, the growl in Tali's throat echoed by the purr in Nina's. "Yes, Mistress?"
Willow glided across the floor, her demon face sliding into place as she sidled next to the pair. Cooing, her hands slipped sensuously up their sides and backs, stroking their skin and drawing out moans of appreciation—then tangling hard in their hair, pulling down and back, baring their throats to her fangs and immediately evoking submission from them. "It's not nice to ignore mother, is it ladies?" Using their hair, she turned their heads to look at the figure lying still and cold near the fireplace. "I have a little job for you—" She smiled and rubbed her cheek against Tali's. "I think you'll have a blast."
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"So, let me get this straight and in a nutshell: I'm actually the long distant descendant of some aliens from another planet, right?"
Buffy sipped her hot chocolate while staring at the alien—NOT a demon, she reminded herself—across the rim of her cup. "Why come to me and why now?"
Paosh set down the cup of water it held before answering, its face troubled and tired. It took a deep breath and began.
"Long ago, your Saiya-jin ancestors were slightly different. They actually had tails when they were born, and kept them into adulthood. That tail was crucial to their development, and key to their greatest innate power, the Oozaru transformation. With their tail, a Saiya-jin, under the correct conditions, could transform into a giant ape-like creature. Their power multiplied tremendously, almost exponentially. Unfortunately, unless a Saiya-jin had proper training, they had no conscious control in this form, and were uncontrollable beasts. It was for this reason the Earth's first moon was destroyed."
As one, Buffy, Spike and Dawn all choked on their respective mouthfuls of drinks and/or snack foods.
"Destroyed?!"
"FIRST moon?!"
"I'm going to get a tail?!"
Paosh smiled wanly. "Ah—no. However, your children might. You see, you're the culmination of thousands upon thousands of years of genetic and mystical manipulation. As I already mentioned, since before time began as you know it, there was a species of beings that lived here on this planet, of which they were the last of their kind." Pointedly, it raised an eyebrow and inclined its head, pinning her with a steady gaze. "Exceptionally POWERFUL beings, I might add. They married and mingled with Earth creatures and produced offspring…" Its grin grew even more. "The very first Saiya-jin to be on Earth was a lad, a mere infant, named Kakkarot. An elderly man found his pod, a man by the name of Son Gohan, who then gave him the name he went by his entire life, Goku. His adventures were legend before the planet was wiped out the last time. He lost his own tail several times, but it kept growing back until he reached his adult growth. His sons, Gohan and Goten, all had tails at birth. His arch-rival Vegeta had his tail until Yajirobe cut it off, and Vegeta's children, Bra and Trunks, had tails. Of course, by this time the adults understood the transformation and its cause and the children's tails were cut off repeatedly until they stopped growing back." It paused at this point. "Strangely enough, the third generation of Saiya-jin was born without tails."
It shrugged. "Really, it's immaterial. The point I'm getting at is this: You are very close to what your ancestors were then; in fact, you're as close I could get you to a Saiya-jin without a tail." It pulled back with a thoughtful look on its face. "Now, it seems you've breached a plateau in your training and it's time for me to step in."
"It's time," it said, "for you to learn the techniques you need to achieve the level of the legendary—it's time for you to learn all you need to be a Super Saiya-jin."
Author Note: I know, I know. It's been ages since I updated, and to be honest, this story has taken some turns I hadn't anticipated when I started. Plot bunnies galore.