Title: Return
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Feedback: Please!
Summary: An alternative ending (which you can bet will never happen) for Ep. 22 of this season, incorporating recent spoilers. The end of BtVS, and the beginning of The Spike Show.
NO MORE SPOILERS
----------------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 32. Soldiers
"Willow," Dawn said, "Can I talk to you?"
Willow stopped pacing and looked blankly at the tense little face before her. "Can't it wait 'til after they get back, Dawnie?" she said. She remembered when Dawn wanted to talk to her about anything and everything. Now it would be Spike, she supposed. Maybe she should make an effort but she was just too tired.
"Yes, but it's about that," Dawn replied, "What's happening. Couldn't it go - you know, wrong?"
"Dawn, nothing will go wrong," Willow said; she was a little shocked to hear the teenager sound so anxious. "Spike and Buffy and Giles are doing everything that can be done, I'm sure." She WAS sure. There was certainly nothing she could do. Her internet research had come up with little or nothing useful.
"Do we have to just sit here? Can't we like look stuff up in books or something?"
"They don't need us, Dawnie," Willow folded her arms across her chest with finality, and looked away. "We just have to wait."
"That's not good enough! They're all out there together and if something bad happens - we should try to help them, and keep trying until they come home!" Dawn said, her voice rising. "You always used to help!"
"That was when I could do something," Willow murmured, half to herself.
Late that afternoon, the demon patrol met at Ripley's Bar. Clem anxiously shepherded them to one tree-sheltered corner of the deserted parking lot (it was sort of early for Ripley's, and besides the demon patrons knew something was up), where Spike gave them a final pep talk sitting on the hood of Clem's battered but much loved pale blue pickup. First he deliberately lit a cigarette, and waited until he had their full attention.
When all eyes were on him, Spike began in a clear, carrying voice; "No one wants the Hellmouth open. Hell-beasts'll gobble us up as soon as anyone else, you and your families, too, and if any cheap witch doctor or doomsday wanker tries to tell you different, they're bloody lying. So we've got to work together with the humans to stop it."
There was a murmur of approval. As he listened, Clem proudly surveyed the fighters he'd assembled. The demon troops included that nice kid Jeff, a black-horned Merrin demon he'd met at the wedding-that-wasn't, and his two burly brothers, Marvin and Al; two Fyarls, whom Spike had apparently enthralled with a few words in their own language; three willowy Amazonian Zantip demon sisters,, Ezzi, Mezzi, and Zevra, all with orange eyes that flashed alarmingly, ebony skin, and manes of white hair (maybe that was why they liked Spike so much - or maybe not); and Eddie, the bouncer at the Red Sunset Club where a lot of the gang hung out. Eddie was a really good guy and would do anything for Spike since he'd rescued Eddie's daughter from the Initiative; he was a brawny, green-skinned Savra.
"Right," Spike continued briskly, "You lot split up into four teams - partner of your choice - and patrol the streets 'round the park, and from the park to the Slayer's house, 'til midnight, when the threat's over. Nobody goes near the park or the house. Then after we'll meet up near the Hellmouth. Clem will coordinate. Questions?"
"Who is the enemy?" Ezzi asked, leaning on her spear. "Who can we kill?"
Spike exhaled a plume of smoke with panache. "Various brown-robe types, sniffing out the dark mojo, random end-of-the-world loonies, some confused minions left over from previous failed apocalypses - the usual gang of idiots." Surveying the fierce-looking crew before him, he added, "Don't kill 'em unless you need to. Disabling injuries and broken limbs are fine - long as it keeps 'em away from the house or the Hellmouth, alright?"
"What will the humans be doing?" Eddie said gruffly, in his gravelly voice. Since the Initiative disrupted his family's peaceful life in Sunnydale, he detested humans. He cracked his enormous green knuckles.
"They'll be with me at all times," Spike replied, "Doin' the big spell. Don't worry, I won't let 'em wander about getting in your hair. So to speak," he added since in point of fact Eddie had no hair. "Right, I'm off now - the appointed hour's comin' up."
He slid down from the hood of Clem's truck, and faced his small but powerful army one more time, saying, "We can do this. Watch your backs - and when it's over, you'll have something to lie to your grandkiddies about some day!"
Shouts (and, from the Fyarls, roars) of approbation followed him as he strode off in the direction the park, keeping to the shady side of the street. The demons were pumped.
"Um, okay, so is everybody clear?" Clem said diffidently. He wasn't used to being the leader, and he guessed it showed. But everybody wanted to help - it wasn't like the demon community wanted to be eaten up by Hell-beasts any more than anyone else. In fact the very thought of it made Clem shudder a little.
"No problem, kid," Eddie growled, flexing his shoulder muscles. "Just leave it to us."
Mezzi grinned, showing rows of startlingly white - and sharp - teeth against her dark face. "We haven't had a good battle in many moons," she said. "I hope the enemy is not too fearful to show himself!"
Al looked appreciatively at Mezzi's lithe, leather-clad form. "Time to bust some heads," he agreed.
"Yeah, let's get 'em!" Jeff said with enthusiasm.
Marvin gripped his shoulder firmly. "Listen, kiddo, if there's any scrapping you stay back, understand?"
"Come on, Marv, I can fight," Jeff said, wriggling out of his brother's grasp. "I mean, like Spike showed me some moves, and I've been practicing, too. Sheesh, you'd think I was a kid or something."
"Yeah, you would. You'd also think Ma'll rip my head off and stuff it down my gullet if anything happens to you, so watch it, okay?"
"I'll look out for your kinsman, Marv," Mezzi said, giving Jeff a terrifying smile that was probably meant to be encouraging; "I'm sure he can fight."
Jeff smiled back intrepidly.
Driving his pickup from checkpoint to checkpoint, Clem had hardly seen anyone - or anything - on the streets so far; it was like human and non-human inhabitants alike sensed that something bad was happening. So far Zevra and one of the Fyarls had taken out three feckless vamps, Eddie and Ezzi stopped three Polgaras heading for the Hellmouth, and the others had merely chased off assorted intruders.
He met up with Mezzi, Al, and Jeff at the end of Revello Drive.
"We caught a Sivverra demon heading this way, but we rousted him and he just took off," Al reported. "Otherwise it's been quiet."
"Ugh, slimy," Clem said. "Well, okay, I'll cruise on past the house again, and you guys take the side streets. We'll meet up later."
"Roger," Jeff said solemnly. Behind him, Mezzi winked an orange eye at Clem. She was a nice girl.
Clem drove slowly past the Summers house. It looked peaceful and secure, a comfy suburban residence. But as he passed, he saw that girl - the Slayer's friend, what was her name, Willow? - the nervous one - come stealthily out the front door, lock it behind her, sprint across the yard and bolt headlong down the sidewalk. And she was running towards the Hellmouth.
"Oh, crimenently!" Clem exclaimed. He hesitated. The girl's face was white and distraught in the brief moment he'd seen it; she could be in trouble. He supposed he'd better follow her. He gunned the motor, something he was usually loath to do, and took off down the street, managing to keep her red hair in view.
As he pulled away, the front door opened again, and another girl came out, unobserved by any protectors. And she too sped towards the Hellmouth.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"SOLDIERS are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives."
Siegfried Sassoon
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Feedback: Please!
Summary: An alternative ending (which you can bet will never happen) for Ep. 22 of this season, incorporating recent spoilers. The end of BtVS, and the beginning of The Spike Show.
NO MORE SPOILERS
----------------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 32. Soldiers
"Willow," Dawn said, "Can I talk to you?"
Willow stopped pacing and looked blankly at the tense little face before her. "Can't it wait 'til after they get back, Dawnie?" she said. She remembered when Dawn wanted to talk to her about anything and everything. Now it would be Spike, she supposed. Maybe she should make an effort but she was just too tired.
"Yes, but it's about that," Dawn replied, "What's happening. Couldn't it go - you know, wrong?"
"Dawn, nothing will go wrong," Willow said; she was a little shocked to hear the teenager sound so anxious. "Spike and Buffy and Giles are doing everything that can be done, I'm sure." She WAS sure. There was certainly nothing she could do. Her internet research had come up with little or nothing useful.
"Do we have to just sit here? Can't we like look stuff up in books or something?"
"They don't need us, Dawnie," Willow folded her arms across her chest with finality, and looked away. "We just have to wait."
"That's not good enough! They're all out there together and if something bad happens - we should try to help them, and keep trying until they come home!" Dawn said, her voice rising. "You always used to help!"
"That was when I could do something," Willow murmured, half to herself.
Late that afternoon, the demon patrol met at Ripley's Bar. Clem anxiously shepherded them to one tree-sheltered corner of the deserted parking lot (it was sort of early for Ripley's, and besides the demon patrons knew something was up), where Spike gave them a final pep talk sitting on the hood of Clem's battered but much loved pale blue pickup. First he deliberately lit a cigarette, and waited until he had their full attention.
When all eyes were on him, Spike began in a clear, carrying voice; "No one wants the Hellmouth open. Hell-beasts'll gobble us up as soon as anyone else, you and your families, too, and if any cheap witch doctor or doomsday wanker tries to tell you different, they're bloody lying. So we've got to work together with the humans to stop it."
There was a murmur of approval. As he listened, Clem proudly surveyed the fighters he'd assembled. The demon troops included that nice kid Jeff, a black-horned Merrin demon he'd met at the wedding-that-wasn't, and his two burly brothers, Marvin and Al; two Fyarls, whom Spike had apparently enthralled with a few words in their own language; three willowy Amazonian Zantip demon sisters,, Ezzi, Mezzi, and Zevra, all with orange eyes that flashed alarmingly, ebony skin, and manes of white hair (maybe that was why they liked Spike so much - or maybe not); and Eddie, the bouncer at the Red Sunset Club where a lot of the gang hung out. Eddie was a really good guy and would do anything for Spike since he'd rescued Eddie's daughter from the Initiative; he was a brawny, green-skinned Savra.
"Right," Spike continued briskly, "You lot split up into four teams - partner of your choice - and patrol the streets 'round the park, and from the park to the Slayer's house, 'til midnight, when the threat's over. Nobody goes near the park or the house. Then after we'll meet up near the Hellmouth. Clem will coordinate. Questions?"
"Who is the enemy?" Ezzi asked, leaning on her spear. "Who can we kill?"
Spike exhaled a plume of smoke with panache. "Various brown-robe types, sniffing out the dark mojo, random end-of-the-world loonies, some confused minions left over from previous failed apocalypses - the usual gang of idiots." Surveying the fierce-looking crew before him, he added, "Don't kill 'em unless you need to. Disabling injuries and broken limbs are fine - long as it keeps 'em away from the house or the Hellmouth, alright?"
"What will the humans be doing?" Eddie said gruffly, in his gravelly voice. Since the Initiative disrupted his family's peaceful life in Sunnydale, he detested humans. He cracked his enormous green knuckles.
"They'll be with me at all times," Spike replied, "Doin' the big spell. Don't worry, I won't let 'em wander about getting in your hair. So to speak," he added since in point of fact Eddie had no hair. "Right, I'm off now - the appointed hour's comin' up."
He slid down from the hood of Clem's truck, and faced his small but powerful army one more time, saying, "We can do this. Watch your backs - and when it's over, you'll have something to lie to your grandkiddies about some day!"
Shouts (and, from the Fyarls, roars) of approbation followed him as he strode off in the direction the park, keeping to the shady side of the street. The demons were pumped.
"Um, okay, so is everybody clear?" Clem said diffidently. He wasn't used to being the leader, and he guessed it showed. But everybody wanted to help - it wasn't like the demon community wanted to be eaten up by Hell-beasts any more than anyone else. In fact the very thought of it made Clem shudder a little.
"No problem, kid," Eddie growled, flexing his shoulder muscles. "Just leave it to us."
Mezzi grinned, showing rows of startlingly white - and sharp - teeth against her dark face. "We haven't had a good battle in many moons," she said. "I hope the enemy is not too fearful to show himself!"
Al looked appreciatively at Mezzi's lithe, leather-clad form. "Time to bust some heads," he agreed.
"Yeah, let's get 'em!" Jeff said with enthusiasm.
Marvin gripped his shoulder firmly. "Listen, kiddo, if there's any scrapping you stay back, understand?"
"Come on, Marv, I can fight," Jeff said, wriggling out of his brother's grasp. "I mean, like Spike showed me some moves, and I've been practicing, too. Sheesh, you'd think I was a kid or something."
"Yeah, you would. You'd also think Ma'll rip my head off and stuff it down my gullet if anything happens to you, so watch it, okay?"
"I'll look out for your kinsman, Marv," Mezzi said, giving Jeff a terrifying smile that was probably meant to be encouraging; "I'm sure he can fight."
Jeff smiled back intrepidly.
Driving his pickup from checkpoint to checkpoint, Clem had hardly seen anyone - or anything - on the streets so far; it was like human and non-human inhabitants alike sensed that something bad was happening. So far Zevra and one of the Fyarls had taken out three feckless vamps, Eddie and Ezzi stopped three Polgaras heading for the Hellmouth, and the others had merely chased off assorted intruders.
He met up with Mezzi, Al, and Jeff at the end of Revello Drive.
"We caught a Sivverra demon heading this way, but we rousted him and he just took off," Al reported. "Otherwise it's been quiet."
"Ugh, slimy," Clem said. "Well, okay, I'll cruise on past the house again, and you guys take the side streets. We'll meet up later."
"Roger," Jeff said solemnly. Behind him, Mezzi winked an orange eye at Clem. She was a nice girl.
Clem drove slowly past the Summers house. It looked peaceful and secure, a comfy suburban residence. But as he passed, he saw that girl - the Slayer's friend, what was her name, Willow? - the nervous one - come stealthily out the front door, lock it behind her, sprint across the yard and bolt headlong down the sidewalk. And she was running towards the Hellmouth.
"Oh, crimenently!" Clem exclaimed. He hesitated. The girl's face was white and distraught in the brief moment he'd seen it; she could be in trouble. He supposed he'd better follow her. He gunned the motor, something he was usually loath to do, and took off down the street, managing to keep her red hair in view.
As he pulled away, the front door opened again, and another girl came out, unobserved by any protectors. And she too sped towards the Hellmouth.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"SOLDIERS are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives."
Siegfried Sassoon