Disclaimer: See the other chapters.
Title: Tool with 'The Patient'
A/N: I decided to change the focus of this, the final installment of 'A Question of Faith'. Guess I'll have to go back and revise that statement. ::grumble::
For long eons it had waited, gathering its power for the day when it could finally set into motion its plans. World domination was too simple, the enslavement of the human race too boring. The simplicity of its desire was surprising as it was frightening.
The end of the world.
Willow smiled slightly as she walked to the Magic Box, humming softly to herself. The slight chill in the air heralded the approaching winter, although it was mild compared to the winds in farther north. California was like that.
It hit her suddenly, a vision screamed in the language of magic. Images flashed through her mind's eye as she gasped, her body fighting for air. As sudden as the torrent had been, so was it's end. Willow's knees buckled and she crumpled to the pavement.
A few people walking by gave her a wide berth, unwilling to chance anything in a town with Sunnydale's reputation. She was only across the street from the Magic Box, however, and chance had Giles looking out the window at the moment of Willow's collapse. He was out the door and by her side in a moment, gently lifting her and taking her inside.
The words she spoke chilled his heart. It was Willow's lips moving, but it was not her voice. It dripped with evil and death.
"Prepare yourself, Watcher. I come."
Seconds later, Willow gasped and started shaking. Stark terror seemed to roll off of her in waves as Giles held her. Murmuring soft reassurances, he tried to offer her comfort that he himself desperately needed.
"What was it Willow?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know Giles, but it was so old, and so evil..."
Patrolling in Sunny-hell was definitely different now, with Spike keeping pace beside me. He still wore his duster, still smoked despite the fact that they were bad for him. That almost always brought up some sort of argument, usually one hell of a shouting match with Buffy.
Despite the yelling and occasional fists, we were doing well. We had made a promise to each other, and had always managed to pull it off. "Never go to bed angry." It's amazing how something that simple could work for us.
He looked different now, but only slightly. Skin that hadn't see the sun in over a century now boasted a light tan, and his unruly hair shifted slightly in the breezy. His ever present duster hung from shoulders that had filled out slightly in recent months, no longer restricted by the promise of eternity.
I love the way he smiles at me, as he's doing now. The mischief promised by his blue eyes, the love and loyalty, everything he is to me clearly shines in his eyes.
"Duck!"
His shout pierces my thoughts like an arrow even as I comply, my body suddenly pressed flat against the cool grass. The slight hiss of leather against steel, his low growl, and the sound of steel parting flesh tumble past my ears. It's over in a moment, and he's helping me to my feet.
A quick glance behind be shows the threat, now dealt with. A strange man with odd symbols carved into eyelids and lips sewn shut. So familiar...
"The Bringers of the First..." the words tumble past my lips as my mind races to recall information from my past. This can't be good.
Lieutenant James Luther, of Sunnydale Homicide, had seen it all during his five years serving in Sunnydale. Missing bodies, mysterious murders, odd MO's. Hell, the strange and 'unsolvable' was part of the reason he took this job in the first place. A nine year veteran of Chicago's dark underside didn't prepare him for what he found in this small California town.
His second year in Sunnydale had been like an awakening for James. The blinds had been drawn from his eyes, and he was finally able to see what was really happening. Vampires, zombies, werewolves. It sounded like a cheap fucking scare-flick, actually. Until he started doing his homework. Countless hours spent tracking down and then reading ancient tomes began to point him in the right direction.
And now, in front of his desk, was a young man who could take him through the final door and into the true battle. Justice and law weren't top on his list, not anymore. The more abstract values of 'good' and 'evil' screamed just out of reach, begging him to join the fight. There were no questions of whether he was strong enough to make a difference, but it didn't matter to James. He had to try.
"So, Alexander," James said, assessing the young man as his left hand absentmindedly rubbed his chin. "You've finally come to see me about my offer?"
"Xander," the young man replied, fidgeting slightly in the stiff seat. "And yea, let's talk about that."
"I know what's going on in this town," James said quietly, leaning forward slightly. "And, for some reason, you've been involved in a great deal of it for years now. Mind telling me what it's about?"
"Can't do that," Xander answered quickly. "They're people I've gotta protect, y' know? Friends."
"I understand that," James said slowly. "And you still came here?"
"You're offer was to me. I figured, what the hell, let's listen to the copper." The slight smile on his face lessened the slight insult of his reply.
"Are you willing to join my special task force then?"
"Sounds good, but..."
"But what?"
"How can I trust you?"
"I guess you've hit that on the nose, Al... Xander. How can I trust you?"
Both men smiled coldly, both gazes met with the determination of steel. The moment of silence that followed was thick for both men.
"Tell you what," Xander said slowly. "If I betray you, you can try and kill me."
"That goes both ways, kid."
"Where do I sign? And not in blood, right?"
The pieces are in place, and the game has begun. The advantage, for now, lies with me. I know what I must do, and what they can do to stop me. The Scythe is hidden from them, but for how long... The amulet that could decimate my forces is now useless to them. And one of the slayers is with child. The balance swings dangerously into the darkness, even with the death of a powerful servant of mine. But with each minion they destroy, a stronger one is tainted and turned from the light. Even as I set into motion the events that will open the Hellmouth, a new minion speeds into the fray, heralding death with a blade whose evil is kin to my own absolute darkness...
The End of Days is near.
A/N: And that concludes 'A Question of Faith'. Thanks for those who read and reviewed. I've already started working on the sequel. I'll start posting soon, I promise.
