Title: Summers Requiem
Rated: PG-13
Summary: Buffy decides to go back and fix the future she and the Scoobies created.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; Joss, UPN, and the WB own everything. Please don't sue me.
Spoilers: Major spoilers for 'The Gift' and a couple through the end of the series.
Special Thanks: To my beta, Kris. And also to my friend Haley.
AN: This is just basically a rewrite of 'The Gift'. Don't ask where the idea came from. Oh, and there is dialogue taken directly from the episode of "The Gift" and I don't own that either. And I've been told the beginning is kind of dark, so consider this your warning on that too. Anyway, on with the story, and hopefully someone will enjoy.
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Chapter One
2008
Summers ran down the hall of the old college building. At one time, it had housed professors' offices and student service; now it was a highly guarded facility that men would kill to protect.
Why?
Well, for one, the offices of the International Organization for Humanity, or the I.O.H. as most called it, was based here. They ran things now that the old government had fallen into chaos. It was an organization dedicated to nothing more than destroying those that it thought 'unclean', which ranged from all demons to witches or those who practiced the craft to the slayers that had been a part of what was now known as the Great Calling. No one was safe from them, not even their own people.
If anyone in their family was found to have any sort of magical or mystical ties, even if it was generations back, that person would be put on 'the List'; those that it was alright to treat as sub-humans because that was what they were considered.
She knew her name was at the top of that list, and would remain there until the day she died.
Another reason why the college was so closely guarded - it rested on top of the Hellmouth, and he who controlled the Hellmouth had the power. They might think that all magic was bad, but they were certainly bright enough to recognize they needed to control it if they wanted to rule.
Damn hypocrites.
All around her, the security system was screaming that an intruder was on the premise. Well, there were several actually, including herself. She had left Jason back at the front gate to lead the riot.
The thought of those people outside made her heart sink into her stomach. Lots of them were going to die because she ordered it, so she could have this one shot at making things right. She had learned five years ago how to be a general in an army and what it meant.
She hoped Giles was proud of her, wherever he was.
As she rounded a corner, Summers came to a full stop when she saw two heavily armed guards standing directly outside the door she needed to go through. They turned to her and raised their weapons.
"Freeze!" one of them yelled as they fired and, at the same time, she dove back into the attached hallway.
She rolled a few feet from the entrance before coming to rest while lying on her belly and covering her head. When the shooting stopped, her head shot up and she listened as the footsteps came running towards her. She needed to disappear.
The two guards rounded the corner, their weapons raised, ready to fire, but found the hallway empty. The corridor was still as the men slowly walked down it, ready to fire at anything that moved. The alarm was still blaring, but it sounded far away and was muffled by the sounds of their own boots clicking against the linoleum floor and their steady breaths.
When they came to the first set of office doors, the guard on the left carefully reached to open it while still holding his weapon up by his face. His hand had nearly touched the tarnished gold knob when the door suddenly slammed open. The plywood and glass exploded against the guard's face and body, shattering the frosted window that still had the visible impression of the name of the professor that had once occupied the room.
The automatic fell heavily on the strap that held it as the guard stumbled backwards from the door with a concussion and a broken nose that bloodied his face. Just as the other man readied his own weapon to fire at the woman who had done the damage, Summers' arm shot out, grabbed the disoriented guard in front of her, and jerked his body in front of her as his friend opened fire right into his back.
She gritted her teeth tightly together as the body of her human shield jerked and danced in a strange motion from the bullets being emptied into his back. The ordeal seemed to last a lifetime before the guard had emptied a whole cartridge into his former friend's body and had to reload. She took the opportunity to let go of the man, but grabbed his sidearm as his body fell away from hers. The other guard looked up at her with a great deal of surprise before she fired twice, hitting him once in the chest and the other in the face. He made a grunting sound before falling backwards to the ground.
Giving no more mind to the men, Summers turned back down the hall and continued to the door they had been guarding, the pistol still swinging in her hand, ready for her to use at a moments notice.
Her eyes tilted up to the small camera mounted near the door, and a smirk crept onto her face. While she walked towards it, she lifted the firearm, and destroyed the camera with a single shot. With sparks flying down on her head, she forcefully opened the door and went inside.
The woman waiting inside turned quickly from the window that overlooked the riot below. The sounds of shots and painful screams could barely be heard from behind the glass, and the dull orange reflection of a far away fire danced and weaved against the window pane. The color made her hair seem redder than Summers remembered, and her pale skin reflected it nicely.
"Buffy," Willow breathed, half from surprise, half from fear.
The name echoed in the room and caused the one time blonde woman to flinch.
She knew it was her name. The name her mother had given her. The name Angel had said before she sent him to hell. The name her friends called when they were in danger. The name that demons and vampires had feared for over a decade. The name that the I.O.H. wanted erased more than any other.
Still, it sounded foreign to her ears. No one called her that anymore. Not since the day Xander had been murdered.
The slayer's face became hard as she looked at her old friend. Once more they found themselves on opposite sides of the fence, and, once again, it was because of a woman that Willow loved.
"It's time, Willow," she said, her voice void of any emotion.
The witch's face relaxed a bit, but was no less concerned. Drawing a sharp breath, she gave a small nod and went to collect the items she needed from a shelf on the other side of the room.
"Do you really think this pathetic plan of yours is going to work?" she heard a voice say from behind her.
She didn't turn around; she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. But she knew he was there, towering over her. The voice she recognized as belonging to her one time 'soul mate', but she knew it wasn't him. Angel had died nearly three years ago after the government had raided Wolfram and Heart. No, the creature behind her was something else, something old and non-corporeal, something that had been hounding her since she helped stop his army five years ago from rising in Sunnydale. The always annoying First.
"This plan will go just about as well as your last big one did," the First/Angel whispered with a small laugh. The slayer could almost feel an imaginary breath on her ear, and she had to fight to keep from shuttering. "Can't wait to see how you screw this one up."
"Screw yourself," she bit out coldly.
Willow looked up from drawing the circle on the ground at the comment. Her green eyes were wide and innocent, reminding Summers of how her friend had looked back in high school and their first year of college.
"Not you," the slayer told her.
Willow made a perfect 'o' with her mouth before returning to her work. The redhead had just completed the circle when the now brunette glanced towards the window.
"Hurry, Wills, we don't have much time," she warned.
"You'll never make it," the First/Anya informed her with a flip of her hair as she trotted over to the nearby rosewood desk.
The ghost figure of her friend seemed to consider the piece of furniture for a moment, then turned around to face the slayer and leaned back, almost like she was resting on the desk.
"Your little rebel gang out there is being slaughtered as we speak, 'cause, remember," Anya morphed into Vi, "you taught us everything you know. And none of us paid as close attention as Kennedy. She always wanted to be the best. I guess now, she is."
As if to illustrate the point, a faint, bloodcurdling scream carried on the wind to the building. The First/Vi smiled at the sound, like she was savoring every second.
"Looks like another one of your friends bites the dust," she mocked.
"I'm ready," Willow announced, drawing Summers' attention away from the creature. The witch took a seat just outside the drawn circle.
The redhead began to chant in a language that the slayer didn't recognize, but could remember Giles speaking the last time they had tried this. Her stomach sunk as she thought about it, and how they had come so close only to have the I.O.H. storm in and screw everything up. Somehow she had managed to escape with some others, but Giles had been caught. The next day, he had been executed for practicing banned black magic.
Summers felt the energy start to build in the room, while the First morphed into her old Watcher. He looked just like she had last seen him, a concerned manner on his much older face while he watched the door. Looking back over at Summers, he announced, "They're coming, you know. They have already killed the rioters and are heading back this way. You and Willow will be next."
Said redhead's head jerked back at that exact moment, her chest lifting slightly upward from the power she was calling from the Hellmouth. A bright line of light illuminated from the center of the circle then exploded outwards until it reached the drawn perimeter of sand. The witch then slumped to the floor and a smile grew on the slayer's lips.
"Not this time," Summers grinned to the surprised Giles.
She then looked down at her friend, who raised her eyes to meet the brunette's. An understanding passed between them, and Willow sighed before a peaceful look passed over her face. Summers laid the handgun on the desk, gave a rue smirk to the form of her old mentor, and darted for the light.
"No!" he screamed, his arms grabbing at her. But since he had no true form, they passed right through her body. The slayer then disappeared into the light, which vanished a moment later.
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Slowly, Willow pushed herself off the floor. That had taken a lot out of her, but she had expected that. Magic of that magnitude always wore out the one who practiced it; she had done enough spells like them to know that.
She stumbled to the desk and leaned against it while she fought for some strength. She had done the right thing; even if she felt like a traitor, she knew in her heart that it had been right.
The door swung open, nearly pulling the piece of plywood off its hinges.
Willow forced herself to stand up straight, but found herself still leaning against the desk as she turned to face the dark-haired woman. Kennedy stood there with several men behind her, looking about the office with a mixture of confusion and disgust. The redhead stood her ground, telling her lover that she indeed knew what had happened there and was not ashamed of it.
Kennedy frowned, her face betraying the anger, contempt, and sadness she felt. She was the one and only slayer that Willow was supposed to be helping; the one that had been granted sanction by the I.O.H. so long as she did as they asked. She was the Chosen One now, she was the law. And she knew that Willow had betrayed her.
"Where is she, goddess?" the brunette asked, using her pet name for the witch.
"Somewhere you'll never find her, slayer," Willow answered, bringing the pistol Summers had laid on the desk to her own mouth.
The shot that was fired could be heard throughout the compound and echoed out into the cold, dark night.
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