Disclaimer: All Buffy, Angel, etc, belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, blah blah blah. Phooey.
Warning: This fic contains major character deaths, murder, despair, and a successful apocalypse. So be warned, it's moderately dark.
As she did the spell, power washes over Willow, flowing into her, encompassing her. And darkness comes with it. The clarity of a mind unburdened by conscience shows her what to do. A simple glamour serves to deceive the girl, the pathetic replacement for Tara. She hears her annoying voice whine an imbecility to her, and feel the Scythe taken from her presence. She opens her eyes and watches her leave, hating her form, her hair, the way she moves. The lives of all become part of her, the loneliness, the despair, the pain that is too much to bear. She rises into the air, and reaches out for a way to end it all. And finds the echoes of mind akin to her own. She remembers Xander on the cliff, telling her he loved her, as she stands unable to kill him. That must not happen again. She sits for a long time, watching the events below. When she is certain that the First has been defeated, because it would bind instead of release, she travels through storm to a more suitable place to summon her champion.
"Prove it." He brings down the knife, and seconds before it connects Connor dissolves into mist. He's confused for a moment, then remembers that often in magic the willingness to perform an act is more important than the act itself. He stands and waits for Cordelia to be collected.
Connor materialises standing in a bare room. He looks confused for a moment, then shrugs and reaches down to the wires on his chest. The explosive dissolves into dust and falls off him. He turns around to see what caused this, and sees Willow standing behind him. Cheated of death, he regards her sullenly before speaking.
"Witch."
"Kid."
He considers for a moment before speaking again.
"Willow."
"Connor." She smiles slowly as she reads his mind, seeing what drove him to this. He gets impatient at her silence and distant expression and tries to hurry things along.
"What do you want?"
"I want to help."
"You would've helped me more by leaving me alone."
"Oh not just you."
"What are you talking about?"
"We are two of the only people in the world who know the truth, Connor. I want to set them free. From the pain and the lies. To set them all free."
"So?" The question isn't incomprehension but a challenge.
"I know they don't deserve it. But if you're going to die, isn't it better to go out with one last, redeeming act of generosity? Please Connor, think of all the people we could save, how much good we could do. He considers this for a while, then nods.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Several things. Most importantly there are some people who can stop me if they get too close. I need you to stop that from happening.
"Alright. What now?"
" There are a few things we have to pick up. Then Cleveland."
"There's something I want." Willow rolls her eyes in exasperation.
"She'll be there. Now come on we should hurry."