Disclaimer:  I don't own anything, as much as I wish I did.  It's Joss Whedon's universe, I'm just playing around in it for a while.

Chapter 9:

"I can almost hear what you're thinking," Anne walked deliberately across the lobby floor, "when could it have happened?  You've barely let April out of your sight, and you haven't let her out of your sight at all after nightfall; no vampires have been invited into your house, so when could she have been sired?"

"Apes…"  Dee almost whispered the name, as if repeating it could draw upon whatever humanity her sister had left, resurrecting her from the demon which now stood before her.

"Your track record really hasn't improved much, Dee, you know that?"  Anne nodded at the new Vampire still standing just between them, "First your father, now April.  You're running out of family."

Dee lashed out, bringing the stake in her left hand hard at the center of Anne's chest.  Anne sidestepped it easily.

The back of a cold fist slammed into the bridge of Dee's nose, knocking her backwards.  It took her a moment to realize that it hadn't been Anne who had struck.

It was April.  April defending Anne.

"Down, girl," Anne raised a hand, pushing April back.  "We wouldn't want big sis staking you, now would we?"

Dee stared up at the pair of Vampires, still trying to reconcile the image she saw before her with what she knew to be true.

"What do you say, Slayer, round two?"

Dee pulled herself to her feet, knowing that she had only one course of action available to her.

She ran.

The door opened for her, allowing her to exit.  She ran until she reached her car parked on the corner.  She drove the car as hard as she could, hoping that the angry growl of the engine would silence Anne's laughter as she watched the Slayer flee.

She ran.

********

Dee drove fist after fist hard into the heavy punching bag, oblivious to the aches in her knuckles as the hard leather bag groaned with each impact.

April's a Vampire.

She'd promised April that she'd take care of her, and she'd come up woefully lacking.  Adding insult to injury, she couldn't even avenge April by taking it out on Anne.  She'd been beaten, badly.  For the first time she could remember, she'd actually had to run away from a fight.

She'd been laying into the heavy bag for nearly an hour now.  Her kicks and punches had become steadily more powerful, more brutal.  She ignored the cries of her aching limbs as they demanded her attention.  Physical pain was the easy kind.

She felt, more than she heard someone step silently up behind her.  What she didn't want at the moment was to be bothered.  She swung around hard, her right fist balled, her hips snapping in a punch which would render just about anybody unconscious; and, if she was lucky, knock a tooth or two out.

Instead, her fist whistled uselessly through empty air as the person behind her simply ducked under the punch.

She straightened up, tugging at the hem of her short jacket as she drew herself to her full height and Dee finally got a good look at her.  She looked to be in her mid- to late thirties and her short blond hair hung freely over her shoulders.  Her eyes looked about twenty years older than the rest of her; as if she'd been forced to grow up long before her time.

"Fine, thanks.  How are you?"

"Whoever you are, this isn't the time, okay?"  Dee turned around and prepared herself to start beating the punching bag senseless.

"No, I imagine it isn't.  Who is that?"

"Who?"

"The punching bag.  Who are you trying to beat up?"

"Look, whoever the hell you are…"

"Is it Anne, April," the diminutive blonde paused for a moment as she brought her eyes to rest on the Slayer's, "or yourself?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Anne didn't keep her side of the deal, did she?"  The woman's voice was aggravatingly calm.

"What deal?"

"The deal where you go out every night killing vampires, but don't let it get personal.  The deal where it's just part of the job, nothing against who the vampire was when they were human.  The deal where you step away from your feelings long enough to drive a stake through the Vampire's heart."

"Look…"

"Anne made it personal, didn't she?"  The small blonde cut her off.

"That's really none of your God-damned…"

"No, you're right.  It's none of my God-damned business.  You are."

"I am?  You don't even know me," her eyes narrowed at the tiny woman, "and, frankly, I have no problems keeping it that way."  She turned back to the punching bag.

"No, you're right, I don't know you; but I think you'd be surprised at what I know of you."

"And how, exactly, do you know of me?"

"You have the blood of a Slayer in your veins.  It would surprise you what that alone tells me."  At Dee's silence, she continued, "you've been dumped into one of the greatest wars humanity has ever fought, and nobody knows about it.  You're forced to protect billions who will never know they're being protected.  It means that you, with others, are forced to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.  And it also means that you're fairly certain that you won't live to see forty.  It means that in spite of the fact that you suddenly find yourself with these really cool powers, you're lonelier than you've ever felt in your life.  April took some of that loneliness away didn't she?"

"My blood tells you all that?"

The blonde smiled, as if thinking back to a pleasant memory, and as if she didn't have many of them, "a vampire I once knew said that blood is life.  It's what makes you warm, what makes you other than dead.  It's the driving force behind every slayer.  And it's what gives you your power."  She looked sad for a moment, "It's also what keeps you alone.  No matter who you have with you, who you have helping you through the rough patches, in the end, you fight alone."

"You're a slayer."  Dee nodded as realization dawned on her.

"Well, for a while, I was actually the slayer."  There was no pride in the Slayer's voice.  It was merely a statement of fact.  "Now, I'm just a slayer."

Dee took a step backwards, "Buffy."

"I guess my reputation precedes me."  Off Dee's look, she looked down at herself, "not what you expected?"

"I, uh, actually thought you'd be taller."

"Well, you're not exactly about to be diagnosed with Gigantism yourself."  She arched her eyebrows.

"No, I suppose not."  Dee stood only a couple of inches taller than the blonde.

"Look, I can't give you any answers.  Only questions."

"How do I kill Osiris?"  Dee demanded.

"And already you're asking the wrong ones."

"What?"

"The real question isn't how you kill him, what you should be asking is 'how far are you willing to go to kill him?'"

"I don't understand."

"Will you kill April if it means that Osiris would be gone forever?"

"April's dead."  Dee pointed out.

"Dead, not gone.  She'll look like April.  She'll talk like April.  She'll even act like April.  Will you be ready to destroy that, even if it's only an illusion?"

Dee shook her head.  "No," she admitted.

"Then you'd better change your way of thinking, or you're gonna lose."

Dee was silent.

"Maybe you can't kill Osiris, maybe you can.  I really don't know.  I do know that if you're not willing to go all the way on this, there's no possible way you can defeat him."

"I'm not going to kill my sister."

"You just said that she was already dead.  I had to make that same choice once for my little sister.  I found a way around it, but I had to be willing to make that choice."

"So what do I do?"

"You do what you were chosen for."

"And what's that?"

"To show that it was the right choice."

********

"So, what do you think?"  Oz looked levelly at the small blonde as she sat across his desk, her face betraying her depth in thought.

"She's Faith," she said, sadly.

Oz shook his head, "She's Dee.  She isn't being corrupted by the power she has, she's being destroyed by a power she doesn't want."  He looked deeply into her eyes, "in fact, I think you're probably going to find that she has a lot more in common with you than she has—" he stopped, correcting himself, "would have had with Faith."

"She is not me," Buffy insisted, indignant.

Oz nodded, "no, she isn't.  She's not you.  She's not Faith.  She's Dee, and she's run out of things to lose."

"Well, then she'd better find something to fight for."

"Help us," Oz pleaded, "Help Dee."

"I can't."

"You're kidding, right?"  Oz was incredulous, "You've saved the world, how many times?  You're balking now?"

"Oz, you have no clue how big this is, do you?"

"Tell me."

"Slayers have been dropping all over the world like flies.  They've been facing garden-variety vampires, but garden-variety vampires with the same training as a Slayer.  Garden-variety vampires so well-trained that they practically know what move any one of our slayers is going to make long before they make it.  In the last year alone, we've lost twenty.  Osiris has minions positioned at every known hellmouth on earth, and our slayers are spread horribly thin just trying to keep the war from boiling over on to innocent victims.  If Dee can't stop this, our best projections are that it's a matter of days before the world becomes exactly the type of place you read about in all the most unpleasant parts of the Bible."

"So, make sure that she can stop this," Oz pressed, "stay."

"I can't."  Buffy paused for a moment, "I'm not supposed to."

"'Not supposed to?'"  Oz actually did a fairly reasonable facsimile of her voice, "what are you talking about?"

"Osiris has orchestrated the deaths of at least twenty slayers, from as much as half a world away."  She let that sink in for a moment, "but he lets Dee prance right into his compound, barely lifting a finger to stop her?"

Oz was silent.

"He wants Dee for some reason, and he can and will kill anyone or anything that walks into that compound with her.  Whatever she'll face in there, she'll face it alone.  Osiris will make sure of that."

Oz let his eyes drop to the empty surface of his desk for a moment, then he looked back up at the slayer, "she's not ready to face something like this."

Buffy shook her head, "nobody ever is."

********

"Osiris was described in Ancient Egypt as the God of the dead."  Anders fingers traced over an ancient stone tablet, struggling to translate the ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs.

"What, exactly, is all this?"  Dee gestured at a stack of large, flat stones lying on the floor of Anders' office.

"Watcher's journal.  I had Giles send it to me from Cleveland."  Anders explained, "what do you think we did before paper came around?"

"Don't look at me, I didn't even know you kept a journal."  Dee shrugged.

Anders was struck dumb by her unexpected answer.

"So, what makes this journal so special?"  Dee asked.

"The Slayer he was watching.  She's the one who last faced Osiris, and sealed his powers for five thousand years."

"So, why's he back now?"

"I guess he spent that time becoming powerful enough to break free of whatever had him sealed up."  Anders said.

"So, how'd she beat him?"

"It doesn't say."

"What!?"  Dee was livid, "They didn't think that little tidbit of information was important?"

"No.  The watcher didn't know."

"Didn't know?  Wouldn't the Slayer have told…"  She stopped, cold realization spreading over her, gripping her heart in an icy fist.

"She didn't make it."  Anders gave voice to the thought that she couldn't.  "She died within two months of being chosen, but she managed to stop him."  He paused for a moment, "she died in the fight," he added, unnecessarily.

"Oh my God."  Dee had always known that the cold reality of being a Slayer meant that she was statistically unlikely to see her thirtieth birthday; which, considering that that was only four years off, probably should have concerned her a little more than it did.

She was actually rather surprised to find that it didn't concern her at all.  Being dead really didn't scare her much anymore.

The idea of having something kill her, however, pissed her off beyond any measurable quantity.

"But at least now we know he can be stopped.  That's something."  Anders added, quickly.

"'Something!?'"  Dee spat at him, "My sister's a Vampire, an ex-Slayer wants me dead, and an ancient Egyptian God is about to end the world."  She paused, catching her breath, "But, great news: he can be stopped.  That's something."

"Dee…"

"No, I don't remember ever wanting this job."  Dee cut him off.

"No, but now you have it, and like it or not you're stuck with it."  Anders stood, his voice hardening, "and I have the distinct suspicion that you were meant to have this job.  Am I alone thinking along these lines?"

It took a long time for Dee to answer, "No."

"Look, Dee," Anders visibly cooled off, "I know you got dumped into this, but it's your place now.  It's where you belong."

"I never wanted to belong here."  Dee shook her head as she sunk into the chair across from Anders desk.

Anders paused, selecting his words carefully, "Dee, in the last thirteen years, I've met probably two hundred girls who had a Slayer's powers.  All of them had the strength, speed and training of a Slayer.  Of those two hundred, maybe a dozen were Slayers.  And one of those was you."

Dee looked at him, not understanding.

"The strength of a Slayer isn't in her arms," Anders clenched a fist in front of him for emphasis.  Then he pressed it against the center of his chest, "it's here."  He looked at her, seeing his message sink in, "learn to use that; the fire, the passion; that's what's going to beat Anne.  That's what will push back Osiris."

"How do I use that?"

Anders smiled, "you'll know.  When the time comes, you'll know.  It's in your blood."

Dee looked down at her hands, deep in contemplation.

"Now, I need to ask you, are you certain you never saw April sired?"  Anders looked at her.

"Positive.  She hasn't been within an arm's reach of a Vampire since that one bit her on my doorstep."

"He didn't sire her?"

"Considering that we were sunbathing on the roof the next day, I'd say it's unlikely."

"And the Vampires you say were holding her when you were fighting Anne last night neither of them…?"

Dee shook her head, "No bite marks.  I checked."

Anders brow furrowed, "How long ago was the attack on your doorstep?"

Dee shrugged, "About three months, why?"

"Three months."

"What is it?"  Dee demanded.

Anders ran his fingers over the stone tablet, "There's something in here about something called the 'ritual of the damned.'"

"What is it?"

"Something about having a Vampire marked with a special symbol bite someone on the full moon, then on the night of the full moon, the person is made to stand over something called the 'throne of Osiris,' and their soul is drawn into the vessel, and they become as those who walk the night."  Anders voice was broken as he struggled to decipher the text.

"Can he do that?"

"He's the God of the dead.  I imagine where dead people are concerned, he can do as he damned well pleases."  Anders shook his head, "never mind, it doesn't apply."

"Why not?"

"It says here that the Vampire who bites must be killed in a moment of contemptible darkness.  He must be killed in a moment of evil greater than the Vampire itself.  You just slayed him, that isn't in and of itself evil, so it has to be…"  His voice trailed off as he saw the look of shocked horror on Dee's face.  "Oh, no."  His body shivered as the realization spread over him.

"I didn't just slay him," Dee whispered, "I didn't want him to die, I wanted him to suffer.  He had hurt my sister and he deserved to die writhing and in pain.  I didn't stake him, I could have, so many times."

"Dee…"

"I didn't stake him," she went on quietly, "I could have, but I didn't.  I stuck a knife in each of his major organs one by one, knowing that it couldn't kill him, only hurt him.  There was a stake lying no more than a foot from my right foot, and another tucked into my belt, but I didn't even try to reach for either one.  I had so many chances just to end it, but I didn't.  Instead I came up with the slowest, most painful way I could think of at the time to slay him.  I pinned one of his arms to the asphalt with a dagger, I stood on the other, and I dropped the silver cross I always carry around my neck into the center of his chest."

"Dee…"

"I let it burn right through him, straight into his heart.  I stood on him, listening to his screams, watching him kick out, trying to shake the little silver cross on his chest, and I didn't do anything.  I stood there, letting him scream and kick and beg, and I didn't do anything to stop it."

"Dee, don't blame…"

"I did it," she whispered, "I killed April."